Residents of Bad Wolf Bay
by Lunabell Marauder Knyte
Summary: SLASH! Sterek! Derek denies Stiles is his mate, the pack neglects him, and his father's tired. Leading Stiles to become the Doctor's new companion. Like all companions, Stiles journey comes to an end.Rather than going home though he's sent to a universe where he never existed and a week before the Hale fire. 2nd chances are funny and bittersweet because he has to "die" in his verse
1. Home is Where the Heart Is

There was a rift. Maybe it was metaphorical, perhaps it was actual, after a few trips with the Doctor, Stiles wasn't really sure anymore. What he was sure about was the ache that had plagued him horribly day in and day out. It wouldn't let him sleep or eat or focus. He'd gone quiet, though there wasn't really anyone around to notice.

Scott was either hung up on Allison or hanging out with Isaac. After everything they've been through, Stiles felt like the security baby blanket Scott had traded in for big kid toys. All that he'd done to protect and help his friend seemed to be forgotten and it was all seen as a mile stone sort of thing so no one seemed to blame him. Or notice how lonely Stiles had become.

His dad now knew though it didn't grant him the relief he thought he'd feel. Knowing hadn't change all the times Stiles had lied to him, had betrayed his trust, gone behind his back, and nearly got killed getting involved in things the Sheriff was sure didn't involve Stiles. And maybe it was the wording of _that_ conversation that really bothered Stiles.

How just because he was human against these supernatural beings, didn't make him a resident of Beacon Hills, and therefore gave him any type of right to try and help defend his home and those he loved.

The rest of the pack just ignored him unless he was needed for something...and it was almost like a last resort. Not in the good way like being an Ace in the hole and more like 'You're the only left who isn't busy, will answer his phone, and knows about the supernatural so I don't have another choice but to come to you' way.

Derek seemed to be the worse though. He knew that he and the Alpha didn't get along, but lately it seemed like Derek went out of his way to make it clear that Stiles was _not_, in fact, pack. And all the while using the most hostile animosity Stiles has ever seen, sometimes worse than anything Jackson can come up with.

The point is...Stiles was feeling like the least important person in the universe right now, so when driving his jeep and he nearly crashed into a flying, spinning, phone booth thing that was actually a 1940's Police Call Box that was actually _actually_ a time traveling machine and space ship with someone who talked faster than he did and had a thing for Chuck Taylor's and suits, he didn't really think twice with what happened next.

* * *

.:~*~:.

Stiles, ever the curious one and not one to back down from anything even if scared, approached the smoking telephone booth (Later he'll be corrected and know it's a Police Call Box). When a man in a blue suit and a trench coat jumped out of the booth with a huge puff of smoke behind him as he coughed and waved it away, Stiles took a cautious step back.

"Blimey! That...what was _not_ supposed to happen! _Why_ did it happen? _How_ did it happen?" The man ranted in a British accent with a very confused tone as he walked around the blue box, then went in (seemed to walk around but that would be impossible, right?), jumped out with gusto and pouted as he racked his head, puzzled. Then he looked up and locked eyes with Stiles before a huge grin appeared on his face and he walked up, took Stiles hand, and shook it happily. With a huge grin he introduce himself and promptly changed Stiles life in a way he never thought could be changed(his best...ex? Best friend was a werewolf for God's sake!) "'Ello! I'm the Doctor!...where are we?"

"...Uh...outskirts of Beacon Hills...?" Stiles said in an unsure tone. He had his fair share of weird but this was...weirdly weird.

"American! I'm in America! That's interesting...wonder why I'm here though...anything weird happening around here...I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." the man was looking at Stiles expectantly and it took a moment for Stiles to realize what for.

He had a thought for a moment, given all the man before him had said, to lie or use an alias. You never really know who anyone is these days. But he was too out of a loop to go with his own thinking and replied honestly instead...or as honestly for someone who doesn't share his real name, "Stiles. I go by Stiles."

The man, the Doctor, looked at him for a moment, _really_ looked at him before smiling at Stiles with this weird smile. It was one he used to share with his mom a long time ago when his dad wouldn't just understand something and she looked at him and he at her and they'd share this moment of...understanding. And maybe with a name like The Doctor...maybe he understood _Stiles_ more than anyone ever could.

"That is a brilliant name," he said earnestly and Stiles believed him.

* * *

.:~*~:.

The smoke had cleared from the box and The Doctor walked back inside. His voiced sounded like a echo and so Stiles couldn't help himself as he took a peek inside. And when he did...his jaw dropped. He circled the outside of the box, then stepped inside, spun around, before mutter "Whoa."

When he finished his full circle spin, he turned to see The Doctor looking at him with these big brown eyes and smile. He caressed the console and said, "Beautiful, isn't she?"

"I...Wha...yeah...Bigger on the inside," he said in a whisper.

The Doctor's smile got even bigger if possible as he jumped in front of Stiles and said, "I love it when they say that. This is my Tardis. Time and Relative Dimension in Space."

"...A time machine _and_ Space ship?" Stiles asked like an excited kid on Christmas morning when the words registered in his mind. He wasn't a sci-fi geek for nothing after all.

"Exactly! You're clever, Stiles. Maybe it was the Tardis' intention to land me here. Maybe I was supposed to find you. Never taking me where I want to go but always where I need to be. So tell me Stiles...what's the buzz of Beacon Hills?" The Doctor asked excitedly.

* * *

.:~*~:.

They were seated outside of this small cafe in some small pueblo in Mexico. They'd left around 6pm Beacon Hills time but in seconds were in Mexico around 11am. At the cafe The Doctor had ordered them some hot chocolate and traditional Mexican bread that complimented their hot beverage nicely. It was warm and comfortable and made Stiles feel safe.

After the Doctor had asked him if he's noticed anything odd (Like some random out of nowhere organization popping out of seemingly nothing to sneaky, lurky, shady people that screamed 'up to no good'). Stiles took a moment before he decided that with all the Doctor had shown him (and though it was only the Tardis, _come on_! That beauty was worth over 1000 secrets.) and began to tell him everything.

But what started out as Stiles dragging his best friend to find a dead body in the woods that became this whole werewolf journey, Stiles got off topic. Well, no, he covered _everything_! All of the events but didn't just stay on facts. For once he talked about his feelings. Feelings he couldn't tell his dad, feelings he couldn't bring up to Scott, and feelings he himself hadn't really knew he had.

By the end of it he was crying and breathing erratically and having a panic attack. The Doctor being clever and ready for anything, especially in a crisis, acted quickly and got Stiles under control...with a hug. Normally Stiles would hate to be touched in a moment like that but it was okay. The Doctor's hug was...protective and warm. As if the Doctor had brought to literal life what it meant to be parental and all the good things that came with it, and enveloped Stiles with it in a hug.

Being who he was, being the _human_, that he was, Stiles tried so hard to prove himself. Prove himself to be old enough, strong enough, durable enough. But really...he was still a _child_. A child who had to take care of his remaining parent, be a huge support system for his best friend before and after the werewolf business, and...whatever the hell he was for the pack.

Once he'd calm down some, the Doctor moved away and wiped Stiles' tears with his thumbs. He smiled softly at him and said in a quiet tone, "Shh...it's alright. Come on...I think some hot chocolate will be really nice right about now."

Stiles didn't know how to find his voice so he just nodded. The Doctor walked up to the console and began to pull levers, push buttons, and twist knobs. He got a more exited smile and told Stiles to hang on and even though he tried, Stiles still fumbled a bit as the Tardis came to life and he assumed they were on the move.

When they emerge, though he knew it was going to happen, it still was totally amazing when he realized they had moved.

The Doctor ordered their drinks and treats and they just sat there enjoying themselves. The hot chocolate was flavorful, the bread was delicious, the day was warm with a gentle cooling breeze passing by every so often. It was calm. It was peaceful.

"There is so much out there," the Doctor began. He was looking at his cup of hot chocolate with an intense gaze but his mind was somewhere else. Then he looked up to Stiles with just an intense gaze. The eyes looking at him were of someone who had seen so much. Both so much wonder but also so much horror, and held much more promise.

"Werewolves are but the beginning. There's the past to learn from, the future to discover, the constellations of this world and the ones from worlds far beyond this galaxy. All of that and everything in between...and I want to show it to you, Stiles."

Stiles eyes had grown wide and were glistening with unshed tears. It was...too important. Especially for someone like him. "I...why me? I'm...I'm just human. I'm...I'm not important enough for something this awesome..."

The Doctor reached over and took Stiles' hands in his and looked at him dead in the eyes and said in a voice that was impossible not to believe, "Never in my 900 years have I met someone who wasn't important. Being human is positively _brilliant_! Humans...you can be clever and good or cruel and horrid. And from what I heard from you, Stiles, is that you care. You've got only one heart and it's full of caring." the Doctor stands up and dusts off his suit before he offers a hand to Stiles, "Now, I've got a universe to see...would you like to see it with me?"

"I...my...my dad...?" he asked in a confused dazed as he fought back tears, though he still took the Doctor's hand.

"Stiles...I've got a time machine. We can be gone for as long as we want and still be back in time for dinner."

* * *

.:~*~:.

Three months. That's how long he spent with the Doctor.

He met Shakespeare and Casanova and Napoleon. He saw New Earth and planets he couldn't even pronounce no matter how hard he tried. He ran with the Doctor and he saved lives..._him_! Stiles Stilinski! He was actually a _hero_ to people he would probably never see again but were more thankful than anyone in Beacon Hills ever has been.

But as much as he loved his time with the Doctor, both the easy fun times as well as the dangerous escapades, he knew he had to head back.

The Doctor nodded, though sadly, and asked if he could visit Stiles and take him for adventures from time to time.

Stiles hugged him tight and nodded vigorously into the Time Lord's chest.

The Tardis landed with it's _Vworp Vworp Vworp _noise it makes right where Stiles' jeep was left behind.

"I guess this is it?...for now?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

The Doctor had his hands in his pocket as he stared at Stiles as he always had, like if he were a treasure, and nodded in agreement. "For now." then as if he remembered he extended his hand, "Give me your phone."

Stiles looked at him oddly but passed over the device he was sure was dead. He'd taken his red hoody with him but had taken it off and left it off for the three months he was with the Doctor(the Tardis' wardrobe always providing him with the proper clothes he needed). His phone staying in his hoody pocket. Who did he have to call in 1645? or in 2556? or now?

He watched as the Doctor aimed his Sonic Screwdriver and soniced Stiles' phone then passed it back when he was done.

Stiles flipped the phone in his hand and saw that the phone had full battery, which if he remembered correctly, was not the case when he began this adventure. "Uh...thanks?" he said, really unsure why that was needed.

Sensing the confusion, the Doctor chuckled. "Well...aside from charging it, I also placed in my number. You won't see actual numbers but you'll be able to call me if you need me. And really...don't hesitate to need me, even if it's for something as simple as a hug, okay, Stiles?"

His throat swelled up with emotion but he nodded and hugged the Doctor one more time before they parted. As Stiles started his jeep and began to drive back home, he watched the Tardis dematerialize in his rear view mirror.

* * *

.:~*~:.

The thing is...when you sit outside the Tardis as it floats in space, over the earth and the moon, next to all those stars and just watch for hours, you sort of get this...feeling. It's hard to describe but it's like...you take a step back and you're no longer watching the world as an actor in a play but watching it as a member of the audience.

And that's how Stiles watched the events unfold. The original reason the Doctor had come to but didn't see to, was still there. But he didn't find out about it until two weeks later after it had been taken care of.

Without him.

No one had called to tell him a new threat was in town. No one had asked him to help with anything. No one came to make sure he was okay. And no one came to him to tell him they were in the clear and just continued to go on with their lives without him. Scott was dividing his time between his job at the vet, to Allison, to Isaac. Jackson was with Lydia and whatever their posh live styles was outside the pack. Erica and Boyd did what they did that didn't include him, and Derek...well he knew just as much of Derek now as he did any other time.

So how did he find out?

His father yelling at him about lying to him again. Stiles was honestly confused but his father thought he was just trying to cover up for someone.

"Dad I swear I didn't know!" Stiles insisted.

"Enough!...just..._enough_. I thought we had an understanding but I guess...I guess we don't. Go to your room...I...I can't do this right now." and without letting Stiles add in anything, he turned and went outside.

Stiles stood there numbly as he heard his father's cruiser leave the drive way. The clock ticked on for minutes before Stiles realized that he had ran up to his room. He stood in the middle of it for a moment, panting heavily, before he acted. He just let go of it all. Unlike when he let it out with the Doctor, there was no pain and sorrow as much as there was pain and agony. He shoved everything on his desk onto the floor, computer included. He threw his lamp across the room, followed by the pillow. He grabbed at anything he could and threw them. Books, photo frames, merchandise. He heard thuds, clashes, rips and other noises of destruction but couldn't care less.

He grabbed his phone and then his keys as he ran out the door, not bothering to close it, and hopped into his jeep. He drove as fast as he dared down the familiar road that would lead him to where he had first met the Doctor. As he drove an idea formed in his mind and he made up his mind. He drove past the point of where he met the Doctor and until two towns over; stopping for gas three times. Finding a path towards the mountains he drove...and drove, and kept on driving. Once he was at a high enough place he put his jeep in park and stepped out.

Taking out his phone he dialed for the Doctor. Before the other man could give a greeting, Stiles' broken voice rang out, begging, "C-come find m-me..._please_...please come find me."

There was a moment of silence and Stiles was beginning to think maybe it was the wrong number. Then he heard the infamous _Vworp Vworp Vworp. _He looked up, eyes red, cheeks stained with tears, and throat clogged with emotion. But there he was, his savior and confidant, his saving grace.

The Doctor didn't say anything just held open his arms and like instinct, Stiles ran into them. In the hug he felt unbroken. He felt safe. He felt like he was home.

"I want to go home...please let me come home...let me stay..." Stiles begged in a whisper.

The Doctor stiffened a bit and Stiles feared he may have asked the wrong thing, but then the arms around him tightened and the Doctor replied with a firm, "Stay."

Stiles nodded and stood there for a good while before he stepped back and turned to his jeep. He slowly walked toward it and put it in drive and watched with a stoic face as it drove off the cliff. He closed his eyes as he waited for the crash. When it did he took a shattering breath, then wiped his eyes and turned to the Doctor. "No turning back...the universe awaits."

"Alons-y." the Doctor smiles softly as he nudged his head towards the Tardis. When they were both inside, without the Doctor touching anything, the Tardis seemingly came to life, as if welcoming Stiles home.


	2. Memories Become the Ghosts that Haunt Us

When the sheriff left his house it had been late in the evening. He drove around aimlessly for awhile before he found himself at the station. He sat in the parking lot for a long time just mulling things over. As scary as it was to learn all that Stiles had gotten himself into, there was a bit of relief, as odd as it may sound. Danger aside, Stiles wasn't really losing his mind and he thought that maybe...just maybe, things would return to somewhat normal.

He missed actually being able to know his son. After Claudia died it was hard to think he still had to live. It just seemed impossible without her. But he did...for Stiles. There were a lot of rough patches but they got through it...___together_. So when Stiles became even more sneaky, or actually sneaky, because before he could guess with full accuracy as to what Stiles was up to.

So all the secrecy hurt. Then you add in all the actual danger his son had been getting into right under his own nose and it just makes things worse. He was supposed to protect Stiles and here he comes to learn Stiles has come close to dying one too many times!

Stiles had promised no more lies...and it seemed like that was a lie. While cleaning up the murdered victims of whatever had passed through Beacon Hills this time, he had caught sight of Derek Hale and his posse of rag tag team he calls a pack. He hadn't seen Stiles directly but the way things seemed to have worked were that where one was, the others couldn't be too far behind.

It was one thing to think his son, his only son, was running around with a (cleared) potential murder suspect and involved with things like...under age sex or drugs or something ___normally_ violent, but the whole supernatural thing? That was too much some days.

No matter how many times he reminds himself, or sees it, he can't fully accept it. And it makes him feel tired. Makes him feel old. ___Older_.

So he did a cowardly thing. Rather than stay and discuss matters with his son like a responsible parent should do, he ran. He got into his car and drove and really...he won't be going back for a while. He turns off his cruiser and heads inside. He gets odd looks but his face must have said enough because no one bothers him. He makes it to his office and locks himself inside. He sits on his chair and forces himself to close his eyes. Forces himself to not think. Forces himself to avoid the world and it's craziness...just for a few hours.

* * *

.:~*~:.

Somehow he'd fallen asleep. He had a kink in his neck and his back hurts, but he had gotten some sleep. He wiped the drool from his mouth on his sleeve and stretched, letting his muscles pop. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes he grabbed his keys and head out.

Again no one told him anything other than the casual 'good morning sheriff', which he was thankful for. Though he was sure rumors and whispers would begin and spread. Small town drama and all that.

Getting into his car he began to drive again. Home however was ___not_ his destination. He was feeling rebellious and a bit indignant. So he pulled up to one of his favorite diners, not caring how he must look like after a night sleeping in his chair and sat down and ordered a big ol' American breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon...the works!

He finished it on his own pace, dragging a bit, and even stayed for a third cup of coffee.

After he could no longer lie to himself about the fact that he was stalling and trying to delay going home, he paid and walked back out to his cruiser.

"Sheriff?"

He turned to the caller of his title and saw that it was Isaac. Nodding to the boy he gave a stiff, "Morning." he wasn't all too cheery, even if he had had real bacon for the first time in a long time.

"H-hey...um...h-how's Stiles?" the boy asked, causing the sheriff to raise an eyebrow in question. Maybe the kid knew Stiles was in trouble for lying to him again? Maybe he felt guilty about getting him in trouble? Or at least guilty that the sheriff had found out.

"At home most likely. And in trouble. I don't care how many superhero movies he watches. He's not a hero and I don't appreciate him getting into danger like that. Or lying to me about it. He should have come to me when you all decided to go after whoever was killing these people!" he lashed out some of the anger he had felt over this situation.

It was the look of confusion on Isaac's face that settled the first knot in his stomach of something ___really_ being wrong with today. The second one came when Isaac spoke, "Stiles ___wasn't_ involved in that..."

"What?" the sheriff demanded as if Isaac had spoken in some odd language he didn't understand.

"Derek sensed that whatever it was that was out there was too dangerous. He didn't want..." looking around to make sure no one was listening, but still speaking in a lower voice, "non-wolves involved cos this thing was just...___off_. I...I mostly saw Stiles at school and well...I just...is he okay?" Isaac blurted out the last part as if he couldn't contain himself and sounded small, like a little kid.

The sheriff however didn't notice much of Isaac's turmoil as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. His defiant breakfast sitting heavily in his stomach. He'd yelled at Stiles. Accused him of lying and breaking his trust. And his son was innocent.

Opening his eyes again to see Isaac looking at him with these huge wounded puppy eyes, he shook his head to try and clear it of his thoughts. "I need to go."

He headed back towards his cruiser but stopped when Isaac's voice rang out, voice slightly panicky and if he wasn't in a hurry to get home and check on Stiles, he would have been concerned. "He's alright, isn't he?"

He should have said yes. Of course Stiles was alright. He had to be. He couldn't deal with any alternative to that statement. And yet...

"Stay out of trouble."

As he drove home his last words to his son echoed loudly in his mind.

* * *

.:~*~:.

___Stiles was in the kitchen preparing dinner for himself and his father then the sheriff walked into the house. He gave a tired sigh that Stiles has come to recognize as the one that meant the day had been far too long for a mere 24 hours. He smiled sympathetically and was going to go into the fridge to see what not so healthy treat he could serve his dad to make him feel better._

"___Stiles." his father's voice was hard and a bit cold._

___Stiles shut the fridge as his back tense. He _******hated **___that voice. It was never good when his father used that voice. He was almost always in trouble when that voice was used. He tried to think that he had done to upset his father but it was hard to recall anything. All he could think about was the three months he had been with the Doctor. Running from monsters, saving people, seeing things no one will probably ever see. With all those marvels, he can't really remember if he forgot to do the laundry or take out the trash, because _******really **___, he had saved civilizations! One night of forgetting to take out the trash wasn't really worth _******that **___voice!_

"___Yeah, dad?" he called out and went to meet his father in the living room. Looking at his father he knew that today was not going to be a good day. But like always, he tried to lighten the mood, "Hey daddy-o. The scum of Beacon Hills driving you up the wall?"_

"___We had a deal." was how his father replied._

"___Excuse me?" Stiles asked, more confused than he was a moment ago._

"___You're still going to lie? What's the point, I was going to find out eventually."_

"___O...kay. I think we need to take a step back so we're all on the same page. Or hell, even the same book because I have no idea what you're talking about. Is this about the garbage cos if it is, it's no biggie, really. I'll to take it out now if you want. No harm, no foul."_

"**Stiles**___!" his dad stressed and he promptly shut up. That was real anger in his father's voice. He would get chided a lot sure, but there was rarely anger. Mostly just tiredness. Stiles swallowed thickly but remained quiet, shoulders slumped and arms crossed over his chest as he tried to hide himself._

"___Answer me!" the sheriff demanded._

"___What do you want me to say? I don't know what you're talking about!" Stiles cried as he flailed his arms around._

"___I'm talking about whatever was killing my people that's my job to protect! The one you didn't think I should know about! The one that you and that...that..._******pack **___apparently took care of without informing the proper authority!" his father cried._

___Stiles froze. He remembered the Doctor talking briefly about something but after a look around, saw nothing and with wanting to show Stiles the past and the future, they hadn't really over thought it. But now it seemed like people had died. People were in danger and his friends had done something about it...without him._

"___I didn't know..." Stiles says quietly._

"___Don't lie to me...you said you wouldn't lie anymore." his father said as he looked at him with this _******disappointed **___look that made Stiles' chest ache horribly. God, he was going to be sick with the pressure and hurt that look was causing him._

"___I'm not lying! I didn't know!" Stiles was begging for his father to believe him. He may or may not be able to fix things with his so called friends, but he couldn't mess up more with his dad. He just couldn't._

"___Stop lying!" the sheriff cried as he grabbed his hair in desperation and turned away from his son. You could hear him losing control...you could also start to see it and Stiles was becoming frightened._

"___Dad I swear I didn't know!" Stiles insisted._

"___Enough!...just..._**____****enough**___. I thought we had an understanding but I guess...I guess we don't. Go to your room...I...I can't do this right now." and without letting Stiles add in anything, he turned and went outside._

* * *

___.:~*~:._

As he got closer to the house a lot of things went through his mind aside from the memories of last night. Thoughts of ___before _when the most he had to worry about was making sure he could give Stiles the education he'll need after high school. Or how their biggest crisis, and he used that term loosely, would be Stiles having a sexual identity episode. Not that it would matter because so long as whoever his son chose loved cared for him, whatever their genitalia turned out to be was Stiles' concern when they were behind closed doors. He thought of his son in general. How even though he was a hassle, how even though he was extra work for a single parent, he was still his baby.

And now all he could see was the confusion and hurt in his baby's eyes from yesterday.

His son had been honest. He'd been trying.

And he'd jumped to conclusions and ruined everything.

Yeah, he wasn't ever eating anything remotely unhealthy anytime in the near future. That all American breakfast was making feel nauseated.

His cruiser slowed down as he approached his house that was now in view. Out of all he had expected this was one of it's worse case scenarios. Not even stopping in front of his own house, he put the cruiser in park and ran to his house. A firetruck in their driveway with two cruisers.

He found Parrish on the front porch speaking in hush tones with a fireman as he ran up.

"Sheriff," the young deputy greeted. His demeanor was tight and careful.

"What's going on?" the sheriff demanded as he tried to get a view of his house, "Where's Stiles?"

"Your fire alarm went off. Neighbors heard it and saw a bit of smoke and called it in. It being your house, sir, we came as soon as we could. Seems someone left something cooking." the sheriff's eyes grew wide and the fireman was quick to reply with, "No harm done. I mean the food was ruined and you may not be able to use that pot again but other than some smoke, that was all that was going on in the kitchen..." the way he talked suggested there was more he wanted to say but couldn't bring himself to do so.

So the sheriff looked expectantly as his deputy. His mind was tired and hazy while trying to be alert thanks to his earlier discovery of Stiles' innocence and his own guilt.

The fireman saw the look and excused himself. Deputy Parrish straightened his back and seemed to be mentally bracing himself.

"Well?" the sheriff demanded.

"I...sir...we can't find Stiles."

The Sheriff stared at his deputy, the words not registering in his mind. He blinked several times as he looked at the younger man who was squirming under his intense gaze. He licked his lips, idly realizing they were very dry. Without a word he moved past the deputy and stalked into the house. Ignoring everyone who was...___invading _his and his son's home, and marched up to his son's room.

What he was greeted with stole the breath from his lungs. Alarms rang in his head, dread creeped into every fiber of his being, his chest ached horribly with pain, and the guilt, oh the guilt, it was devouring him from the deepest pit in his stomach.

He barely made it to the tipped over trash bin as he threw up the contents of his breakfast.

Parrish ran to his side when he heard the thud of the sheriff's fall and then the wrenching. "Sheriff!"

"Jeep..." the sheriff's throat was burning and his voice was rough, but none of that mattered, "Where's his jeep?"

"It was gone when we got here. So were his keys." Parrish answered as he helped the older man to his feet.

The sheriff nodded as he steadied himself and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Without another word again, he began to make his way downstairs, Parrish hot on his heels.

"Put out an APB and AMBER alert on Stiles and his jeep." the sheriff ordered as he dug a bit maniacally into his pockets for his keys before he remembered he left his cruiser running.

"Whoa! Where are you going, sir?"

"To look for my son," stated the obvious.

Parrish looked torn for a moment before he dug into his own pockets and tossed his cruiser keys to his partner who nodded in understanding. The younger man then ran and got into the passengers side of the sheriff's cruiser. "I'm going with you...I...we don't know what happened. This is law 101 and you're too involved. I know I can't keep you from looking for Stiles, but I'm gonna be with you as you look. Two pairs of eyes are better than one, right?"

The sheriff only spared a quick, hard glare before he agreed. Two pairs of eyes ___were_ better than one and right now he didn't give a damn how many people he had to babysit him so long as he was out looking for his baby. His baby that he hurt.

Images of Stiles' room flashed before his eyes and all he could see was anger. As angry as he was yesterday for thinking Stiles had lied to him again, Stiles was angrier at not being believed.

* * *

.:~*~:.

When Isaac lost sight of the cruiser he took off in a run. He really didn't care if he used some of his supernatural wolf speed to get him there. The scent of guilt and regret had come off in drowning waves off of the sheriff. He whimpered as he ran, his inner wolf in a fit, wanting to make sure Stiles was alright.

The sheriff never answered his question. And from what he had gathered, Stiles had gotten into trouble because of them.

His wolf howled in his mind and heart. A painful howl of sorrow and guilt because Stiles was pack and pack was supposed to be there to protect one another and this felt like a betrayal. It was only made worse as he remembered the reasons as to why he had approached the sheriff in the first place. He was on his way home from practice when he smelled Stiles' scent.

* * *

.:~*~:.

___He hadn't seen Stiles in the meetings for some time and even though they went to school together, that didn't seem to make a difference. The scent that had become Stiles scent also bugged him._

___Stiles, who once smelled like body wash, medicine, and his own reserved scent that Isaac had somehow and without knowing, associated it with home, now smelled...bad. Not bad as in rotten but...Stiles shouldn't smell like that. It was like...defeat and misery but giving way to nothingness. Stiles scent was turning into a void and it sent Isaac and his wolf into a frenzy. He momentarily lost control and began to shift as his wolf demanded to be freed to run to his packmate and comfort them._

___With effort, Isaac reeled the wolf back under control and approached Stiles and called out tentatively. "Stiles..."_

___Stiles stiffened and began to pack his things up in a hurry. Seemed like he had been studying or doing work out in the open, away from home or prying eyes. His scent changed to add in a bit of hate. Not annoyance or distaste but real, burning hatred that made Isaac recoil and whimper quietly._

___But he wouldn't be deterred. Stiles pointedly ignored him as he shrugged his backpack over his shoulder and headed to his jeep. Isaac, wanting answers, ran and cut him off. Stiles' stare was a bit shocked but it turned cold with a tinge of anger. He remained quiet though. Breathing deeply from his nose he racked his brain for what to ask before he settled with stating, "You weren't at practice."_

"___Like I'm missed." Stiles answered bitterly as he tried to move around the werewolf to get into his jeep._

"___You are." Isaac said with as much conviction as he could. And maybe he wasn't talking about practice as much as he meant the pack meetings. And maybe he wasn't talking about everyone else as much as he meant him. He missed Stiles. Stiles had been a constant in the pack, at school, in his new life as a werewolf. Now that he wasn't there, his space remained vacant and he could feel the void in the back of his mind and it bugged him. Werewolves were both man and wolf, but a lot of the times people just associate them with mostly as wolves. Hell, even they think themselves mostly as wolves than human...but they still were. And Stiles was the best representation of that. A reminder of a stronger version of what they were, of what they were meant to protect now that they were more than just human. Stiles was his Querencia, his Saudade, his Hiraeth._

___Lost in his little epiphany he was just having about just how much Stiles means to him he didn't see the pained look that crossed the other teens face. Didn't see when the pain turned to exhaustion and settled on just tired._

"___Leave me alone, Isaac."_

___Isaac blinked up when he heard that tone. He's heard it plenty times before. It was a tiredness voice of someone who just gave up. Someone who didn't have purpose. Who was falling and was just waiting for the fall to hit and shatter him. That was his voice for what seemed an eternity as he lived with his father._

"___I..." he swallowed thickly. He didn't really have a script for this. "Want to come over?" he blurted out and he and Stiles locked into a bit of a stare down. Isaac's eyes like that of a scared child, pleading, and full of emotion. Stiles' once expressive eyes were dull. That's it. Just...void. Isaac didn't like it. At all! So he began to elaborate, "We can finish our homework and then get some food? My treat. And-"_

"___Stop!" Stiles held up his hand and closed his eyes. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a breath trying to keep his patience. "Just...let me get into my car and leave me __****__**alone**____."_

"___No..." Isaac said slowly, shaking his head to add conviction, as he straightened his back and stood firmly between Stiles and his jeep._

"___Look Lahey, I'm not in the mood so will you just move out of the way?" Stiles demanded. "If Scott's too busy with his head up Allison's ass to pay attention to you right now, I'm sure you can go pester Derek or Erica or anyone else because no one can seemingly turn down your bouncy curls and pretty blue eyes. Need help studying? Go find Lydia. Need __****__**anything**____, there is __****__**always **____someone out there __****__**better **____than me that makes _******better **___company. I get it! The Swedish supermodel rule wins here. Your blonde hair, blue eyes, perfected body with werewolf senses, and that sweeter than honey persona you have...I get it, you're perfect! Well, I don't have anyone else for you to steal so if you can just do me the favor and leave me the fuck alone to rot and fester in my worthlessness, that'd be great! I don't need to be reminded how I was replaced by my supposed best friend for a better model that I can't ever match up with!"_

___Stiles stood there panting, tears of anguish, hurt, and anger staining his cheeks before he wiped at them angrily. His nails leaving scratch marks across his face as he did, and shoved his way past Isaac. The blonde had been so shocked by the other's words that he had moved enough to let Stiles through and into his vehicle._

___By the time he got his senses back, Stiles was gone. He bit his lip hard as he thought of what to do. Go after the distraught teen and try to make up for all the feelings he seemingly has caused. Or give the other some time._

___He decided to let Stiles cool off so when he saw him next he would stand a chance to remotely get to talk with him. In the mean time he thought over all that Stiles had said and all that he could say to make it up to him._

___He wanted to deny Stiles accusations but thinking back...when __****__**was **____the last time they had actively included Stiles? When was the last time Scott had set time aside for his childhood friend? Or mentioned him? And not just Scott, but anyone else too. Stiles was __****__**important **____to the pack, he __****__**was**____!_

___He had to fix this. He had to fill the void that Stiles' absence left and that only could be filled by Stiles himself._

* * *

___.:~*~:._

When he arrived on Stiles' block he easily heard the rise in activity very close to said human's house. Going the long way around and being super careful, he finally saw what was going on. Instantly his heart began to race with fear and panic.

It wasn't odd for there to be cruisers there, it ___was_ the sheriff's house, but why were the firemen there too?

Taking a whiff of the air he smelled something burnt. It made his nose twitch. Stiles' cooking was always delicious and amazing and he loved it when he brought something over. It just enforced that caring feeling he always felt when around Stiles. His wolf loved the caring attention Stiles gave them, nurturing them and feeding them with food that was meant for the gods! Okay maybe he was exaggerating but only by a bit.

He strained his ears to see what he could hear.

"-still missing, huh?"

There was a sigh, "Yeah. They're checking the school and local hang outs but no sign of it. Neighbors say he might have left last night..."

"He's got a full night ahead of us, huh?"

"He wouldn't run off!"

"Did you see his room? And you've heard what they've said..."

"Just rumor, can't hold that to fact."

"No? $50 says when we find him Hale and his teenage posse will be involved somehow...I just hope we find him alive."

"Did you really have to put that in my head?"

"I'm just saying man...he's at that age. Drugs and whatnot. And hanging out with people like Hale? God knows what sort of shit he'd got the kid on."

"I've seen Stiles...he's an odd kid, yeah, but he's not like that. You've seen how he's about keeping the sheriff on the up and up with his diet. I don't think drugs are related here."

"Then what's your theory, Sherlock?"

"...I ain't gonna lie and say I didn't notice his interactions with Hale. But like I said...Stiles is a good kid. Not the most popular. Attention like that from someone who looks ___cool_ like that...I think Stiles was just used, ya know? I mean, kid lost his mom, his dad's working hard protecting this town and trying to make ends meet, a little attention goes a long way at that age..."

"Still didn't hear what you think happened."

"I don't know. Let's stop trying to guess and go and look for him and get the sheriff's son back...___alive_."

"...yeah. Okay."

Isaac waited until the voices cleared some and though it was extremely risky right now, he couldn't help himself. He climbed through Stiles window and took in the sight of it.

He didn't want to overthink things and get psychological, but considering he goes to therapy to help him with what happened with his father, he did take the psychological route. It was that or the emotional one and right now Stiles probably needed someone emotionally stronger. A room, someone's personal space, was sacred. It was theirs to do with what they will. It was the room that breathe someone's persona into life. Telling others things that the owner of the room may never tell.

And Stiles had destroyed it. Isaac's been around anger enough to know the who and what and why they caused it. From their previous conversation Isaac would jump to the assumption that Stiles was angry at himself as much as he was at the world. He didn't see himself as enough and with whatever sense of self preservation he had left, destroyed the next best thing of himself that he had.

He jumped out the window and ran. Thoughts swirling in his mind. Acts like that often escalated quickly. Stiles was in a dark place and he needed to be saved. He needed his pack...his friends...his family.

Reaching the Hale residence, he didn't slow down or pause and just crashed in and yelled, "DEREK!"

* * *

.:~*~:.

The idea to visit Achilles actually happened when they were at least 3000 years into the future. Stiles had made some comparison and the Doctor smiled and made some comment about how it was cute people thought that. Stiles asked about once they were out of danger and safely in the Tardis and merely drifting through time and space as they decided where to go next. Apparently the Doctor had met Achilles previously and helped just as he does with all those he meets.

When they arrived and met the warrior and legend the first thing Stiles said was, "He doesn't look like Brad Pitt."

"I think you mean Brat Pitt doesn't look like Achilles...no matter how muscly they make him." The Doctor replied with a smile as he approached the hero and reintroduced himself. Apparently they'd met while the Doctor had a different face. After a bit of chatter which Stiles suspects was Achilles grilling the Doc to see if it was really him. Then the hero smiled and pulled the Doctor in for a hug and Stiles let out a breath he hadn't know he was holding. It was something he's learned from traveling with the Doctor...you never really know who will be your enemy or who will be your friend.

Achilles showed them around some, this being before the Trojan War, the Doctor had whispered to Stiles. As they talked, the Doctor had wandered off to investigate something and that left him alone with a very good looking Greek hero.

"You have great strength in you, young one, and yet you carry so much doubt," Achilles told him after a brief silence.

Stiles blinked and shook his head vigorously, "I don't think so."

"But you do. Otherwise the Doctor wouldn't have taken you with him. With him, only the strongest, kindest, and wisest heroes get chosen. You should believe in yourself a bit more...there is a tiredness in your eyes...one I've only seen in other warriors who have been to Hades and back."

Stiles recalled the legend of Achilles and remembered that he was practically invulnerable except for his heel, which his mother had held him by as she bathed him in the River Styx.

"That's easier for you to say...you were raised to be a warrior. You were raised to expect all sorts of crazy and monsters and come out on top! You were raised to be a hero! Me? Yeah, no...I'm not. You're invincible for the most part and that's gotta be really helpful when dealing with things that want to kill you. Me? Yeah, I'm very breakable and weak and annoying and...and human."

"Nearly." Achilles said after another bout of silence. When Stiles wasn't going to reply, he continued, "I was captured by demons as a mere babe and was to be sacrificed to the River of the Dead. Had it not been for the Doctor catching me and pulling me towards safety, I would be dead. Of course bathing in that Styx, as dangerous as it is, does have it's benefits if you survive." Achilles explained.

"But the legends say it was your mother who dipped you in the river to make you stronger," Stiles said, confusion in his voice.

Achilles shook his head, "Tis what the Doctor had others believe. My mother had been raised on stories from the Doctor, so when I was kidnapped and the gods didn't answer her prayers, she prayed to him. And he came through. The Doctor listens to the loudest cries that call for help...when everyone else ignores those cries, be it family or comrades, and even the gods themselves, it's the Doctor who replies. Whatever reason you have to call on him, it was no mistake. No chance. No fluke. It was written in the stars...and trust me when I say this...those that travel with the Doctor are the greatest heroes to ever live."

Stiles eyes shone as tears swelled in them at the words. It'd only been two weeks since he left home for what he thought was for good but it was still a fresh wound. In the quieter moments he believed he still wasn't important enough to be the one having these adventures and maybe the Doctor had made a mistake. But here he was...still venturing through time and space. Swallowing thickly, he closed his eyes as a few tears fell and memorized the Greek Hero's words. He wasn't a fluke. He deserved this.

Achilles removed a necklace from his neck and passed it over. "I wish for you to have this."

Stiles accepted the necklace and inspected it. It was coin…overly sized, but a coin nonetheless. Though…it was nothing like what he's seen before. There were sketches and markings on it as well.

"Tis a talisman. It was gifted to me when I was but a young lad. An old warrior passing by had fallen due to thirst. I fetched him some water and he was most grateful at my kindness but also saw a great deal of power within my soul. He said it held the spirit, courage, and honor of many great men who were at one time lost and unsure of themselves. And when you see such a man, to pass it, and the characteristics it held to that lost soul who needed it. I can see you are lost now Stiles, and with the Doctor I do not doubt you will have many challenges awaiting you. So please, keep this as a token to remind you that even though the night comes forth and shrouds you with cold, bitter darkness, the sun has not been vanquished."

Stiles held on to the talisman tightly to his chest before donning it on and meeting the warrior's gaze with his own. He nodded and glad that when he spoke his voice didn't shake, "Thank you. I'll remember this every time I feel lost or uncertain. I...Thank you…really."

Achilles nodded and placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. The Doctor then called him over and they were gone again.

* * *

.:~*~:.

Stiles yawned as he watched the Doctor fiddle with the console, "Where are we going next?"

"Dunno yet...thinking of what I want to show you. There is just so much! But while I figure it out, why don't you go get some rest?" the Doctor suggested.

On cue, Stiles yawned again and nodded. "Right...still in the same room?"

The Doctor smiled, "Your Avengers poster signed by Robert Downey Jr. is still there."

Stiles' smile grew wide, remembering when he got that, "Well in that case, yeah...I'll go snooze for a while." he patted his pockets and asked, "Have you seen my phone?"

"Huh?" the Doctor looked up from his controls and said, "No, but I'll keep a look out for it. Go to sleep. It'll turn up."

Stiles nodded and began to make his way to his room when the Doctor made a noise and jumped out of his seat.

"Oh! Nearly forgot." he ran up to Stiles and placed something in his palm.

Stiles looked at what was placed in his hand before looking up at the Doctor with a confused face. "It's a key..."

"Ah...not just ___any_ key. It's the key to the Tardis. Since it'll be your home now, I figured..." the Doctor shrugged, "It's your copy. Don't lose it, don't give it to anyone. Understand?"

Stiles nodded vigorously and put it on and tucked it under his shirt as it laid next to his talisman that Achilles gave him.

"Good lad. Now, off you go. Get some sleep. Who knows what sort of beasty we'll have to run from next time we land. You'll need your rest!" The Doctor said happily. Stiles' laughter bounced off the corridors as he went.

The Doctor waited until Stiles was in his room and waited even more until he was confident Stiles was asleep before digging into his pocket and pulling out Stiles' phone.

He read through the text messages before deleting them. Then he heard the voice mails before deleting those too.

"___Stiles...son...I...I know you're angry. You have every right to be. I messed up, I know...but please just pick up. Call me. Just tell me you're alright. Please."_

"___Stiles?! It's Isaac, please pick up. Tell us where you are, please. We need to know. Call me. Call anyone in the pack. We'll be waiting...your pack is waiting."_

"___I don't know where you are but pick up the phone. I don't...look, I know we don't have the best relationship but this is not something I'm happy with okay? Call me back when you get this." (Derek)_

"___Stiles, bro! Isaac and Derek are freaking out...I sorta am too. They said you did that to your own room. I don't know if I want to believe it or not, but I don't like the idea of you having been kidnapped either. Call me, yeah?" (Scott)_

The rest of the messages where like that too. All different levels of worry and crudeness. The Doctor was a bit happy that these people cared for Stiles after all, but hated that it was this what it took for them to begin to notice how much Stiles meant to their lives.

If Stiles ever realized he did this he may be angry at the Doctor but he needed to heal before he even thinks about going back. Stiles is still too broken to go back right now. And these people need to evaluate what they're feeling right now a lot more before the Doctor deems it right for them to reenter Stiles' life.

* * *

.:~*~:.

___~One week after Stiles' disappears~_

The sheriff rubbed his tired eyes as he poured himself another cup of coffee and went over more reports dealing with his son's disappearance. He's grilled Hale and even Scott but it seems all of them have no clue as to where his son may be and are just as distraught by the turn of events. But he cares little for their feelings. What he cares about is finding his son!

Derek and his pack were in his house after hours of patrol. They were tired but also sure that Stiles wasn't in Beacon Hills anymore. So they had to rendezvous and come up with a new strategy to find their missing friend. They were tired, cranky, wrecked with nerves and guilt. There had been plenty of accusations and blaming.

TV's were on in both the station as well as the Hale residence, though mostly as background noise to keep the silence at bay. But they turned their attentions to it when the ___**breaking news**_ bulletin appeared on the screen.

"___The rangers doing their weekly rounds found the wreck after hikers called in with tips about smoke in areas not regulated for camping. Upon inspection it was found that a blue jeep had driven off of the mountain. The crash left the vehicle nearly indescribable. There is no word yet about the driver...but from what we saw of the wreckage...hope is very slim." _the local news reporter of the town two towns over, explained.

Sirens blared loudly as the sheriff's police cruiser raced, joined by howls in the wooded areas, also heading towards the same direction. One name, one prayer, on multiple minds.

"___Please Stiles...be okay!"_

* * *

I know the summary didn't make sense for a while. I was trying to make it all make sense with the limited amount of characters they let me. I thought I had covered it all but apparently removing the spaces between the word and it's period erases some of the word so I know for a moment it looked like gibberish. Please forgive me. I think it's okay now though...


	3. It Continues On and On and On

.:~*~:.

The Tardis' ___Vworp Vworp Vworp _rang out loud in Stiles ears as he waited for the proper landing. Once it was quiet and settled he smiled at the Doctor and asked, "So...where are we? Or should I ask when?"

The Doctor laughed as he stepped away from the controls and met Stiles as they headed towards the doors, "Both would be correct actually."

Opening the door he let Stiles out first before stepping out himself and locking up behind him. He'd parked the Tardis on a hill top that over looked a grand city that could be the dream world of scifi geeks everywhere. Gleaming towers ran along the horizon, lights all over making it seem like it was glowing. It was beautiful.

Stiles had been to the future a few times but it never ceased to amaze him. Flying cars zoomed by and though they weren't any Deloreans or space crafts from the Jetsons, they were still pretty awesome. Stiles smiled brightly from ear to ear as he asked, "So? What's our adventure today?"

The Doctor began making his way towards the city, "Well...first off, welcome to New Earth!"

"New Earth? What happened to the original?" Stiles asked as he kept up with the Doctor and his long legs.

"What was always going to happen. Six billion years and the sun implodes, taking out everything near by. The earth and moon, included. A bit sad really. I really liked that moon," The Doctor said a bit solemnly.

Stiles stopped for a moment. The Doctor kept on a walking for a bit before he realized his companion wasn't next to him. Looking back he saw Stiles looking at him with a hurt and confused expression. Jogging back to the human he put a tentative hand on Stiles shoulder and asked, "Alright?"

"I...," Stiles licked his lips as he shook his head, "Y-yeah...it's just...," he let out a breath as his shoulders shook a bit. He wasn't crying but his breathing had picked up some but it wasn't a panic attack either. "I always wanted to believe in time travel. Well, I wanted to believe in a lot. When werewolves turned out to be real...I didn't freak out like I should have. I should have shaken it off and not believed that's what had happened that night...but I did. Rather than being scared or confused...I accepted it. I jumped into a world of supernatural, believing it wholeheartedly, all the while being human but...I shouldn't...I shouldn't have..."

"Some nights I would lay in bed and just think...I was too weird for normal life. And it turns out I'm too normal for the supernatural. Scott found his place...so did everyone else. Then there was just me...lost and too normal for the supernatural. But then you came and I realized that I was too normal for the supernatural but perfect for this. Sometimes I still don't think I deserve this. And then I hold the coin ___Achilles_ gave me...years and years before Beacon Hills was ever created...before anything ever occurred and yet...it still did. It boggles my mind that at some point it all happened and it always happened," Stiles took a breath and it was a bit unnerving to the Doctor how numb Stiles was at the moment. No more tears, just calmness. But he continued to listen, "And now we're in the future...where no matter what trouble we went through back home...it ___still _gets wiped out with the sun..."

The Doctor stuck his hands into his pockets as he stared at Stiles for a long moment. Amber honey colored eyes looked for answers in his warm chocolate brown ones, "Well, yes. Life continues on, Stiles...it did after your mother passed."

The Doctor saw Stiles stiffen but he continued in his most gentle voice. He knew this was still a sensitive subject for Stiles, no matter how many years had passed, "You thought it was impossible right? Your mother was so wonderful and amazing and yet, she was gone. How could the sun keep rising and setting, though? How could the earth keep spinning? How could people keep on going on with their lives when such an amazing person was taken away far too soon?"

Stiles was crying now. Eyes sad but unafraid as he kept staring, wanting to hear what the Doctor was telling him. It felt important. He needed to hear this. "Doctor, h-how could it keep spinning? What's the secret?" he asked in a broken voice.

"That's just it, Stiles...there is no secret. No magic...life just goes on," the Doctor said the words but it was his intense gaze that told the real story. The loss over the centuries clear as day to Stiles, "You lose people and you think you can't go on but you do...you do because those you lost will continue on ___within_ you and ultimately without you...and you owe them that much. You follow their example. You use their allegories. You take on their habits...and no matter how dark it gets...no matter how painful...you don't forget them. You carry them in your heart and you ___feel them with you every second_. It'll hurt like nothing else ever could, but that feeling, Stiles? That agonizing pain that sometimes feels like it's crushing you under an imaginable weight and you sometimes want to just give in and let it? It's the same feeling that lets you know you're loved and cared for. It's them...it's you...it's life...and it goes on."

More tears ran down Stiles' eyes as he listened. His right hand clutched over his heart like a life line as he took those words to heart. The Doctor then turned back to the city and gestured towards it.

"For a time...it seemed like the end of the human race was near. The sun was going to implode any moment and everything they've ever done would be gone. All the wars, deaths, depressions, scandals...all the art, achievements, monuments...all the greatness and all the horror...gone. No one to remember...no one to care."

Stiles heart tightened at the thought and he swallowed thickly as he shuffled closer to stand next to the Doctor.

"___But_! Humans..." the Doctor turned to look at him with that bright, proud smile of his, "So clever...and stubborn. You've done ___so_ much! And you had so much more to offer. This would ___not_ be the end! And it wasn't. The rich and fortunate got to see the last few moments of the earth from a safe distance...the destruction of Earth...and they were able to go on, make New Earth. It's a holiday you know. We remember..."

"Remember?" Stiles echoed, glad his voice didn't break then. It was mind-blowing to think of his home like this.

"Where you came from," the Doctor said gently. "Humans traveled for a long time. Colonizing here and there before landing here. New Earth. We, Stiles, are currently in the M87 Galaxy. Year five billion and forty three. Humans...werewolves, vampires, fairies, magic folk, and all sort of aliens, now live in coexistence."

Stiles looked at the Doctor incredulously, "Seriously?"

"Well...no one is no longer shocked about what's really out there. I mean, they did travel from one galaxy to another. And it's been ___years_, Stiles, quite the many centuries to come to terms with it. It's no longer a surprise about different species. But still...no matter what year it is life is still life."

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean that it's still the same in many aspects. The rich still look down on the rest, big business still thinks it rules the world, the cool kids still don't understand the quiet kids...life goes on, Stiles. The story never changes, just the names and faces."

Stiles felt something settle and shift inside of him. This was life. It moved, shifted and renewed itself. No matter what you did the story went on...life went on.

"Wait...wasn't that a Bon Jovi song?" Stiles asked with a grin as they resumed their way towards the city.

"Yes, yes it was. Oh! There's an idea. Let's go to one of their concerts next, yeah?" The Doctor suggested happily.

Not knowing exactly why, Stiles laughed as they entered the city limits. He supposed that it was like the saying went. You either laugh about it or you cry...and he was tired of crying. He was still hurting, he was still aching, and he missed home terribly. And no matter how much he's been hurt, he still missed them all. But he knows this is for the best. He wants to enjoy his life. He wasn't sure how long he had with the Doctor (he had gotten the 'my other companions' speech/warning) and he just wanted it all to be enjoyable. He wanted it to be life changing. So he laughed and pushed all thoughts of the past back as he linked his elbow with the Doctor's and ran!

* * *

.:~*~:.

"We're lost," Stiles stated with a huff.

"We are not lost. We just haven't found the entrance yet..." the Doctor corrected as he and Stiles ventured through different parts of the museum.

Stiles had been to a few museums in his life. But they all paled in comparison to the ones here on New Earth, especially the World Wonders Museum. It was a museum dedicated to human history wonders of the Old Earth and the New. And when Stiles said this place was ___huge_ ...it still didn't do it justice! There were monuments here that were practically lifted off of Old Earth and put in storage before they settled on New Earth and eventually this museum.

And the Doctor wanted to show Stiles all the preserved world wonders that were salvaged from the Original Earth. Now, he'd never seen the Pyramids of Giza up close but he'd known that they weren't tiny. And yet they could be fit ___inside_ of one building. So yeah, this place was more than huge...it was ginormous and then some!

Using his Psychic Paper, the Doctor got them in easily without having to pay. After the initial look around the lobby they began to wonder without asking for directions. The Doctor insisted he could find his way around. That led them through a few crowded rooms, some really empty hallways, and the Doctor using his sonic screwdriver on a few locked doors. And they were still no where near the Egyptian exhibit.

Stiles didn't mind though. All the while the Doctor explained a lot of the things they saw. He explained wondrous displays of wars he had forgotten about, locations he had never been and people he hoped he could meet while living in the Tardis. He also told Stiles about Time Lords and Stiles even managed to get some of the good memories and not just the heavy regrets the Doctor carried about being the last of his race and the reason behind it. Surprisingly enough he also talked about Rose, Martha and Donna. Stiles got the feeling that that wasn't an easy task, talking about previous companions. He didn't want to be a ghost trying to fill a void but he didn't get that feeling from the Doctor so they continued on.

The Doctor just trusted him to hear the stories of the people ___he_ lost; that made ___him_ feel like his world was turned upside down. So Stiles kept quiet and listened. And really, after each story he wished he could meet his previous companions. If they were as amazing as the Doctor described them, or as heroic as Achilles had insisted, then hell yeah, Stiles wanted to get to know them. There was a chance they could give him all sorts of advice. Be it from traveling with the Doctor or just life in general.

Oddly enough, all through the museum there was one face Stiles recognized over and over. It was a kid in his mid-teens. 16 maybe? He looked like a regular teenager doing a research paper and there was something about seeing something so normal like that in the year five billion and whatever that made Stiles mind race and heart feel weird...but a good kinda weird. The teen had brown hair and was wearing jeans, a red hoodie, and a black leather jacket over it. He carried an old beat up knapsack on his shoulders and in his hand was an open binder that he was scribbling in ever so often after he looked up and checked on something. He just looked like a normal teenager.

For being in the future, Stiles was both dumbfounded and surprised by people's fashion choices. Some people did in fact dress like Lady Gaga, but then there were people like the teen who seemed to be from Stiles' own time. Plenty of times he had asked the Doctor how available Time Travel actually was. The Doctor would look, laugh, and shake his head and say something like, "Let us worry about monsters and bad guys. Fashion is something I'd rather not tackle for a few more life times."

Sighing, Stiles grabbed hold of the Doctor who was rambling about the inaccuracy of some of the things on display to the other patrons of the museum. That amused him actually, and made him laugh when the Doctor didn't bother to be quiet and others around him heard and looked insulted. He dragged the Doctor until they were next to the teen. "Hey, excuse me. Do you know where the Egyptian Exhibit is?"

The teen looked up from his binder, and Stiles noticed that Doctor was not so subtly looking at it with a furrowed brow. The teen looked surprised at being addressed.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You're sorta all the way across from it actually. Head down this hall and take a left. Then take a right and you'll find yourself in a busy lobby. There's an automated path. You can get on that and it'll take you to another section. Great way to see a lot of stuff too and not waste energy. Then to the left you'll see the Egyptian Exhibit and the right the Greek and Roman ones," the kid explained as he looked around Stiles and the Doctor before jotting down something in his binder again. Stiles looked to where the teen had looked at but there was nothing. Just some security personnel that were doing a shift change.

Shaking his head he smiled at the teen, "Thank you. Come on Doc."

The Doctor had also looked to were the teen had looked at but nodded and began to follow Stiles, "Right...thanks again!" he called out from down the hallway.

The teen just raised a hand in acknowledgment before closing his binder and headed off in the opposite direction.

Though it wouldn't be the last they saw of the teen today.

* * *

.:~*~:.

He should have known that when things seemed to be going well it was just the calm before the storm. And naturally he had been the storm maker. Derek hadn't noticed anything until Peter had pointed it out.

His relationship with Stiles had changed. The human was still as annoying and impossible as ever but it was different. Before when he couldn't see any other purpose of tolerating him other than to appease Scott into staying, now...Stiles had become a vital part of their pack.

He found answers, he gave them leverage, he was the 'out of the box' thinking that had saved their lives more often than he cared to count. Knowing or unknowing, he gave the pack what they needed. Be that comfort or a challenge. All while being human. Vulnerable, breakable, with seemingly zero self preservation at times when others were in danger.

And damn it, Derek cared for him. Despite the fact that he challenged him on a daily basis. Despite the fact that he never accepted Derek's wishes even though he thought it would be for the best. And it turned out that sometimes, it was a good thing because Stiles saw holes that Derek and his ego were blinded by.

It was Peter's little jab of, _"____He reminds me of your father...whenever Talia thought she knew what was best, he always removed that 'ego blindfold', just as Stiles removes yours on a a daily basis these days."_

Derek had tensed because he knew how deeply that implication went. His mother was the Alpha and his father the Alpha's Mate. The yin to his mother's yang. Sometimes they seemed so different but when they came together...it just worked and it was beautiful and amazing. And it was what he thought he had with Kate.

That had woken something in him. Something vile and angry. He was suddenly angry at Kate and mostly at himself. Except there was something new on his war path, Stiles. So he took his anger out on Stiles. As the days passed the more he denied it vocally...but internally he knew it to be true. Stiles was his mate and damn it if he wasn't scared. He couldn't let what happened to his family happen again. He knew Stiles wasn't anything like Kate but that didn't stop what he was feeling. Nor did it stop his treatment of Stiles.

Eventually Stiles stopped coming to the meetings. His inner wolf howled in anger and sorrow, for he had long ago accepted what Derek was still trying to deny.

His scent was no longer anywhere near the Hale house. Even if a lot of his pack went to school with him, Stiles scent was barely a lingering thought before it vanished all over again.

At some point he'd hit rock bottom. Sure he accepted that Stiles was his mate, but that didn't mean he did anything about it. He didn't run after him and make any sort of declaration. He did however sneak into Stiles' room when the teen was in school and just let himself be surrounded by the scent of his mate for hours. And he didn't miss the scent of depression and agony and hate that lingered in the room there with Stiles' own personal scent. It scared him, it angered him, it saddened him, but didn't encourage him to do anything.

Stiles was young, good looking, and stubborn. He'll move on...he'll find someone...

That last thought made him wolf out because his wolf hated him for not going after his mate. Hated him for letting his mate feel those horrible things. Hated him for even thinking of letting Stiles go...but he would. He had to. For his own sake as much as Stiles'.

And that had been the last time he'd allowed himself to visit Stiles' room because he had to cut his losses. He needed to get used to the void and the emptiness. No matter how much he wanted to ask about him, to see him, to hold him...he didn't chase, he didn't ask, he just stayed put.

When that beast came into town, stealing the life, the blood, and the bones of it's victims, leaving them like a lifeless meat suit, he felt like he was justified. Many of his wolves were hurt during that battle and pretty badly though there was only one culprit. Had they involved Stiles...he didn't want to think about the 'what if's'.He just barely caught a glimpse of the sheriff before he took off. It took all of his self control not to go running off to Stiles, to show off like his wolf wanted to, wanting to tell his mate how he had conquered another threat. To let his mate know that he was safe...but he didn't.

He sat in his room, listening to the silence, just brooding and sulking and missing Stiles. And it went on...and on...and on. Two miserable weeks later was when he would realize just how much of an idiot he was.

The dread and horrible cold that seeped into his bones the day Isaac burst in would haunt him forever. The young wolf screamed at the top of his lungs, emotions strong but negative as he looked around frantically, "DEREK!"

Derek was at his side in record time, "Isaac, what is it?"

"Stiles!" the blonde cried out in desperation and Derek swore his heart stopped and his wolf was torn between a growl and a whimper.

Derek grabbed Isaac's shoulder and used his most powerful Alpha voice and ordered, "Isaac, calm down. Tell me everything."

And so he did. His encounter with Stiles a while back, his run in with the sheriff, what he heard when he got to Stiles' house, and what he saw in Stiles' room. With each word that passed through the beta's lips, it felt like a sharp blade laced with wolfsbane was being used to stab into his heart.

"Call everyone. I want them all here yesterday! Tell them it's urgent!" he barked as he pulled out his phone to call Peter. Teasing or not, Peter would understand the meaning of Stiles' disappearance. Peter always said that Stiles was his favorite too.

Before his uncle could give a sarcastic greeting, Derek spoke in a voice he couldn't control. It was rough and on the edge of...panic? Fear? "He's gone. Stiles is gone. I don't know what happened."

"I'll be right there," then the line was dead.

Soon everyone was there and he spared no time. "I don't know where Stiles is. The cops don't know either. ___Find him._"

Normally there would be a sarcastic or rude remark here and there by a multitude of his pack. Not this time though. Maybe it was the mixture of his and Isaac's feelings, but they knew it was serious. Everyone was soon split into teams and they went to scour all of Beacon Hills for any sign of Stiles.

They'd find none.

* * *

.:~*~:.

They found the Egyptian Exhibit easily enough, but it was rather busy. Like too busy that even the Doctor who loved to talk and correct the tour guides thought it was too crowded. So Stiles suggested they walk around aimlessly and just stumble across things in the surrounding area.

The Doctor agreed but promised that once the crowds died down he'd take Stiles back to see the pyramids. Even if they had to come back after hours.

They walked and Stiles saw statues dedicated to people he remembered, people he thought he remembered, and people he never knew. Paintings too. Those gained his attention more. Van Gogh's Starry Night was there. He stared at that one, captivated for a good half an hour probably. It'd always been one of his mother's favorite. Once a very long time ago she promised him she'll take him to see it.

It only took over five billion years but he fulfilled her wish.

"You alright?" the Doctor asked him gently. He was standing behind Stiles just watching him, letting him have his moment.

Stiles nodded before turning to face the Doctor, stuffing his hands in his pocket, "Yeah, I mean...I guess? I'm ___feeling_...settled."

Nodding too, the Doctor said, "Good. Hungry?"

"Starving!" Stiles replied with a smile.

"Food court's this way," the Doctor motioned with his head.

"Are you sure? I'm not lying, I'm really hungry. I don't wanna get lost," Stiles teased, laughing at the sudden affronted look on the Doctor's face.

"I am not lost. I'm sure! I even got a little brochure. Helpful, these," the Doctor held up a pamphlet as proof. Stiles just shook his head but followed as the Doctor began to lead the way.

They used the automated path way again since Stiles liked being able to see things at a steady rate. There was a lot to see so this way, they got to get an over look of possible stops. When they crossed to the other side he heard a familiar voice arguing.

"I think you're over reacting, Hunter."

"I think something happened but no one's admitting to it and wasting time!"

Stiles saw the teen that had given them directions. He was talking to someone in a security uniform.

"Just because James didn't show up to work doesn't mean anything is wrong," the security guard stated.

"It's not just James though. Stanley, Michelle, and Adam have gone missing too!" the now obvious teen, Hunter, insisted.

"I'm sure it was just some bug going around, kid," the security guard tried to reason.

"Bugs have signs. Tiredness, loss of appetite, paleness. I'm here every day and I didn't notice anything," Hunter argued, hands flailing around.

"I know you're a clever kid, but you're not a doctor. I'm sure James is fine. I'm sure they're all fine. Now, as you keep pointing out, we are understaffed, and I'm sure it's by some normal, non-threatening reason, and I'm spread out thin. I gotta go," the security guard dug into his pocket and passed a bill into Hunter's hand, "Go get something to eat, okay? I'll see you later?"

Hunter looked at the bill like it was something foul, "I don't need your charity."

"No, but you need lunch. Go eat, kid. I gotta go," the guard replied before he disappeared. Hunter sighed, opened his binder, read something inside before closing it and heading towards the Greek Exhibit. There was something about that guy that tugged at Stiles.

"Stiles?"

Stiles blinked and nearly tripped as the automated pathway ended, but the Doctor pulled him up in time, "Yeah, sorry, I just...got distracted."

The Doctor was looking towards the Greek Exhibit too and replied in a mysterious tone, "Yeah...happens a lot...anyway, come on. Food court's this way. I can smell the chips! Fresh and crispy!"

* * *

.:~*~:.

When he got the call from Isaac, he was sure the blonde was just overreacting. He was wrong though. Derek's feelings mixed with Isaac's affected him but he had faith in his friend. Scott was sure Stiles was just busy playing games or doing homework or...or...getting things ready for college! He was sure that was it. There was no way he could be missing.

It wasn't until the sheriff brought him and the rest of the pack in for questioning that he realized things were more serious than he thought. It was the pleading look the man who acted as his father figure for many years, had given him. It was the look of a desperately broken man on the verge of a meltdown. Looking shattered was only half of it. The smell of defeat and guilt was so strong on the man that Scott tripped a few times under the weight of it. Ten minutes of the Sheriff begging Scott for the smallest answer and he wasn't sure whose guilt he was feeling. The Sheriff's, another member of the pack's, or his own. Maybe it was all of the above. It would explain why it was so intense.

Or maybe it was so intense because no matter how many times the Sheriff asked Scott where his best friend was, Scott didn't know. And he should have.

When was the last time he had spoken to Stiles? When was the last time they had hung out and did something normal like play video games or watch a movie?

Scott thought as hard as he could, way past him getting a headache, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Stiles. Even in school, it was just a blur. He hadn't been at lacrosse in what seemed like forever either. He couldn't smell him when they got back to Derek's. He wasn't there, hasn't been there for a long time, and Scott didn't notice.

They were discussing plans, or someone else was, while Scott was lost in his thoughts and emotions. He didn't know who threw the first insult but he heard someone say, "It's all McCall's fault. He's known Stiles longest and he didn't even bother to see why he was missing."

His eyes flashed as his wolf rose to the surface, "What about you? When's the last time any of you spoke to him last!? He's my best friend, yeah, but he was also your friend too, wasn't he?"

"I think you need to reevaluate what the words 'best friends' mean," Erica spat out.

"How would you know anything about being best friends?" Scott retaliated.

"Careful, McCall," Boyd stepped between them. His back was stiff, eyes panicked, and he was ready to strike. All of the pack was wired up and the lack of answers or clues was making them very agitated. They were all looking for a reason to lash out and release some of the thick tension that was in the air.

"___Enough_!" Derek barked. "We can spend as much time as we want wallowing in this guilt or anger or whatever else we're feeling later. Once we find Stiles and make sure he's safe. Squabbling like idiots is wasting time that can be better spent looking." Derek's eyes were flashing red and his voice carried the Alpha strictness no one could disobey even if they wanted to.

"What are our orders?" Peter asked after a bit of silence.

"We stop by Stiles' house. Familiarize ourselves with his scent again. We spread out in teams. We find a trail. We find him. Understood?" Derek ordered.

They all nodded and made their way to the Stilinski household. The driveway was empty and it didn't go unnoticed. The Sheriff was off looking himself through all the available resources of the law that he had. It was more so the missing infamous blue jeep that made Scott's heart ache.

'Where are you buddy?' he asked silently. He half expected, half mentally prayed Stiles would drive up and give them all this incredulous look and demand something so totally sarcastically clever. But no one drove up. No one was inside to turn on the lights, or to make delicious food, or make the place feel like a home.

When they all jumped into Stiles' room (Isaac running downstairs to find out he didn't need to since the door was left unlocked, to let Lydia, Allison, and Danny in) it was cold. It was a mess, sure. But it was the fact that they could feel the void in the room, the emptiness because of the lack of Stiles presence. Scott knew the humans could feel it too, so it was definitely worse for the wolves. All said wolves passed around one of Stiles' shirts and got a good whiff. It was odd but it seemed to calm them down the tiniest bit.

"Alright...we have his scent. Now we go and find him," Derek ordered and they were all off. Isaac running out first and fast. Even when he was four blocks down, Scott could still hear his heavy footfalls. Isaac was relying on his anger, the one he had for himself and for the others...and this situation. He was taking it out however he could. Stomping a little harder on the ground beneath his feet was a little comfort, Scott assumed.

The others soon followed but Scott remained behind. He was still holding Stiles shirt and he was clutching to it like a life line.

Derek looked at him and called out his name to get his attention, "Scott..."

Scott didn't hear him. All he could hear was the beating of his heart in his ears. Then he felt the earth beneath him shift. Blinking he realized that a) he had started crying and b) he'd fallen to his knees as he clutched Stiles' shirt to his chest.

Allison and Derek were next to him in a flash.

"Scott!" Allison cried.

"My fault..." Scott began to rock back and forth a bit, "My fault..." memories flooded back over him. All that Stiles had done for him. For the pack. How many of their blessings could be counted because of Stiles? Too many. And did they give him the proper thanks? Show him the respect he deserved? Stiles was always there when it mattered, when it didn't matter. He was there on awesome Saturday nights as well as shitty Monday mornings. And where was Scott? "If anything happens to him...it's my fault...God, what have I done? I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..."

"Scott, listen to me." Derek said using his Alpha voice, "Stiles is alive." because he just ___had_ to be. "And he ___needs_ us. You can make it up to him when we find him. But right now we need to find him."

"We?" Scott snapped out of it and was glaring at Derek. The anger he smelled from Isaac still in his nose. Derek had once used anger as his anchor right? So he could too. Anger was better than this...___helplessness_, "Since when has there been a ___we_ when it came to Stiles? The pack was right! It's ___my_ fault because Stiles is ___my_ best friend. He's ___nothing_ to any of ___you_!"

Derek wolfed out a bit and growled menacingly at Scott as he grabbed him by the front of his shirt, "___Don't_ say that. Don't you ___**ever**_ say I don't care about Stiles!"

"You. ___Don't_!" Scott insisted as he wolfed out too and growled back defiantly, "You go out of your way to tell him he's not part of this! The ___only _reason he stayed was because of ___me_! Stiles was ___my_ responsibility and look what shitty job I've done!"

"He's my responsibility too!" Derek cried.

"WHY!?" Scott demanded.

"Because!"

"That's not an answer!"

"BECAUSE HE'S MY MATE!" Derek finally growled out.

Scott froze. He was still wolfed out but he pulled back and Derek let go of his shirt to allow him. He looked at Derek and listened to his heart, "Say that again..."

"...He's my responsibility because he's mine. He's my mate." Derek looked away as if it pained him. Scott sensed shame mixed with hurt, guilt, and anger. Licking his lips, Scott tried to find his voice but even if he could located it, he had no idea what to say. Luckily Allison spoke for him.

"Fine. Both of you messed up. Hell, we all did. Because Scott...Stiles is important to all of us. He's part of this. So we find him...no matter our reasons to. We find him and we wake up every day after this trying to make it up to him. Let's go get our Little Red Riding Hood back, kay?"

Both wolves looked at her then at each other before nodding. Derek jumped out first, then Scott with Allison.

They searched until dawn and then into the morning before they rendezvoused back at the Hale place to put together a better strategy to find Stiles.

* * *

.:~*~:.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" Stiles asked as the Tardis' ___Vworp Vworp Vworp_ sound died off, though the echo carried them on a bit longer.

The museum, like many other places, looked different and a lot more creepy at night with all the lights turned off. It kind of gave him the creeps. And Stiles knew all about getting the creeps.

"I promised I'd show you the pyramids, didn't I? Well crowds got in the way and I am a man of my word, Stiles," the Doctor said as he led the way through the corridors.

"We could have waited...the guard said that nearing the end people were more often found in the Hall of Fame since it was near the gift shop," Stiles commented as he followed along trying to be mindful of where he was stepping. The moonlight (Stiles was very happy the New Earth came with a New Moon and had a bit of a mental debate about whether people got confused about the name of the New Moon and the moon phase by the same name.) illuminated the place some but there were still steps and carpets and uneven flooring. Seriously, you'd think that in the year five billion they'd have even flooring! "Or we could have visited the pyramids while they were being built, or just finished, or a hundred, maybe a thousand years after they were finished so we could get like...a keychain or t-shirt or something with a coke."

"It's all about timing, Stiles...and there's something...off about this particular time," the Doctor stopped as he turned to look at Stiles.

Stiles stopped too and raised an eyebrow at the crazy haired Time Lord, "Wait...you mean something's going on?"

"Maybe? I dunno yet..." the Doctor furrowed his brow, "I ___was_ going to take you on an Egyptian get-away but I thought something more along the lines of visiting Cleopatra or King Tut. Something classic...but the Tardis brought us here and I don't know why."

"And you didn't mention this earlier, why?" Stiles asked. He wasn't mad, just curious. Whenever the Doctor hid things like this there was bound to be some adventure behind it.

"Because I'm supposed to make you feel safe and sure. Show you the brilliance of traveling through time and space and all the opportunities it offers! No stress...I mean, granted there may be some stress when we find ourselves in trouble but that's different cos that's accidental and well..."

Stiles smiled at the rambling and hugged the Doctor around the waist while the Doctor wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulder and they continued walking side by side, "Trouble finds us, we find it...so long as we do it together...that's what matters, okay?"

"Okay," the Doctor nodded, "Then come on. There's something about the pyramid's that bugging me and I don't know what..."

"Other than it's giving off powerful and strange magnetic pulses?" came a voice and Stiles looked ahead to see Hunter coming out of one of the exhibits.

The Doctor smiled as they approached the blue eyed teen. Stiles suspected that the Doctor knew Hunter was around, "Ah! You made it!"

"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked with a raised eyebrow as he looked between the Doctor and Hunter.

"Investigating, like you. I was eating lunch when I found a note in my sandwich bag," Hunter said as he passed a piece of paper to Stiles. Hunter was carrying a flashlight with him and shone it over the note for Stiles to read without straining his eyes.

'___Something is going on. Meet us after hours._

___-Lost but curious tourist.'_

"Yes, well something is going on and you seem to be the only one here who's noticed and keeps looking. I'm the Doctor and this is my companion, Stiles," the Doctor introduced them as he grabbed one of the teen's hands and shook it. Stiles nodded and then shook the teens hand too.

Hunter nodded back as he shook Stiles' hand, "I'm Hunter Skye. And well...I don't know exactly ___what_ is going on but I also know I can't turn a blind eye to it. It's just too weird."

"What exactly have you noticed?" Stiles asked.

"You two talk, I'm going to find a light switch," the Doctor said before slipping away.

"There's one over there," Hunter pointed to the wall across from them, "But it's locked and you'll need a security key and badge to swipe in to switch it on and that'll alert people we're here. I only managed to turn off the security cameras."

"Really?" Stiles asked, impressed.

"I've been coming here since I was seven. I know just about every nook and cranny. The times I've snuck in here over the years...I know this place pretty well. And," he gave a shrug, "I have a knack for getting into trouble...I end up with the security detail a lot in fact. But I didn't spend my time idly there. I learned pass codes and habits and other cool tricks," Hunter said proudly.

Stiles smirked at him, impressed, "Awesome, dude!"

There was a buzzing sound that Stiles recognized as the Doctor's sonic screwdriver and before long the sound of the lights overhead began to buzz to life. The Doctor came back, flipping the sonic screwdriver in the air and catching it expertly before pocketing it, "Well then...no prying eyes and lights. I think we make one impressive team! Now, Hunter...tell us what you've found."

Nodding, Hunter removed his knapsack from his shoulder and took out the binder Stiles saw him carry earlier. He presented it to both Stiles and the Doctor and they looked through it together as Hunter explained.

"Like I said, I've been coming here every single day for the last nine years without missing a beat. Even if it was closed for remodeling or cleaning or whatever..."

"Wow, you must really like this place," Stiles commented as he looked through Hunters observations for the last couple of days. It looked like the teen was looking at the shift changes, some names were circled.

Hunter shrugged and said offhandedly, "It's pretty cool," It was something about the tone of his voice that made Stiles curious. There was something familiar there, but he wouldn't pry. And besides, they had something more important to deal with at the moment. Hunter took the silence as confirmation that he could continue.

"Now, you guys may already know that there are things that become powerful magnets, and also machinery that can cause giant magnetic pulses that can screw around with things," Hunter continued as he reached under his sweater and showed them an old steampunk looking compass. Opening it up, the needle was going all sorts of crazy, "This only began a few weeks ago...there had been an accident in the Egyptian exhibit. Some of the rocks of the pyramid came off and hurt a patron and crashed into another case."

"You don't think it was an accident," the Doctor said as they flipped through the notes.

"This thing was built billions of years ago and made it across space in tact...to just one day start falling apart? One of the world's oldest, and salvaged wonders of our previous world, it's got a following, it's got it's own attendants and students still studying it...someone would have noticed if there was a possibility of it being altered or if it was falling apart. Had someone noticed it, I would have read about it, heard about it. Like I said, I know this place pretty well. Michelle, a friend, used to work here part time to help pay for her schooling. She was studying it and she loved to talk about 'her passion'...so she would talk to me. All the know-how about the pyramid, I know it. Hell, I even know when and how often they clean around the thing."

"Used to?" Stiles asked as he looked at the notes and saw Michelle's name and a few dates next to them. The Doctor seemed to be looking at that page too, but with an expression Stiles couldn't read.

"Yeah...she stopped coming to work. As have other people. No one believes me when I say that something is going on. That these people are in danger," Hunter said in a bitter voice. Stiles recognized that tone instantly.

"How are you sure they are? In danger I mean," Stiles asked gently, not wanting to insult the teen further than people had already.

Hunter looked up at Stiles, "Because Michelle was on her own, other than her pet ferret, Mike. She knew that missing work was the last thing she needed if she wanted to stay on top of her bills and tuition. James is married and is expecting his first child in three months. He was pulling double shifts these last three months because he wants to be ready for anything. First time parent jitters to the max with him! People think they got sick or something came up but I remember the last time I saw them all. Perfectly healthy and none of them mentioned any other reason that may call for their MIA status. No signs of any sort of physical illness either. I snuck in and checked records, not one of them has called in sick either or has asked for personal/vacation time...it doesn't add up."

"These dates, are they the dates they go missing?" the Doctor asked as he pointed to the dates next to the names. Hunter nodded. Then the Doctor asked, "Then what are the dates under them?"

Hunter looked between the Doctor and Stiles. His face resigned as he contemplated telling them, "Those dates...are...well they're the reason no one takes me seriously."

Stiles raised an eyebrow and looked towards the Doctor. There was definitely something going on here. They nodded at each other before turning to Hunter and asking him to elaborate.

"First time I noticed I passed it off as chance. But when I saw it again...and then again...I knew it couldn't be possible," getting looks that said 'continue' the blue eyed teen did, "All throughout the exhibit I'd find names of the people who have gone missing, artifacts with their names all over the museum. After I picked up the pattern, as small as it was I ventured through all this place, to try and find anything that may be related. I lost lots of sleep but the findings were worth it because I just ___know_ something is going on. I'd look into whatever information is available and then compare it to the employee database...the birthdays and names and even some of the personal info that may be available add up perfectly. Death dates though...they're years in the past. Sometimes a few decades, sometimes longer. I don't know ___how_...but I think people are being sent back in time...and whatever is causing it, I ___think_ lives inside the Pyramid of Giza."

"No..." the Doctor's eyes widened as he looked around them.

"Doctor?" Stiles asked as he looked over and saw that the Doctor looked frightened. "Doc...?"

The Doctor grabbed both Stiles' and Hunter's hands and ushered them towards the Tardis, "We need to get out of here and come back with a battle plan."

"What? Why? What's going on?" Stiles demanded as he jogged to keep up with the Doctor, Hunter right behind him.

"Because Hunter did a good job of investigating and I'm glad we got to him when we did. What he stumbled upon though is very dangerous...something I can't save either of you from if it gets to you. So let's get to the Tardis and think of a good plan!"

"Tardis?" Hunter asked as he followed the Doctor as he took a sharp turn and continued on.

"It's...uh...well you see...uh...yeah. You'll see," Stiles settled for an explanation as they practically jogged back to the Tardis.

"Gee, that's helpful," Hunter deadpanned but continued following nonetheless. After a moment he asked hesitantly, "You believe me?"

"Course we do!" The Doctor exclaimed.

"Totally," Stiles agreed.

"Why?" Hunter couldn't help but ask. For weeks he'd been telling anyone he thought would listen but no one ever did.

"Because...someone's gotta be out there listening, right? Well, we're that someone," Stiles replied as he smiled at Hunter. He realized that it felt good to say those words.

Hunter looked at him for a moment, as if analyzing his words, before smiling back.

They made it to back to the Tardis and this time Stiles got to experience the wonder of someone seeing the Tardis for the first time. He could see why the Doctor loved it so much. He even laughed at Hunter's exclaim of how 'It's bigger on the inside!'

Stiles and the Doctor shared a look before they told Hunter to hang on. Hunter looked at them with a curious look as the Tardis jolted and then took off. The Doctor was driving and used to his baby tossing him about as Stiles hung on to some of the railing. Hunter...well, he fell and bumped his head with a cursed grunt. But he was okay when they stopped, and amazed when they landed.

* * *

.:~*~:.

"_The rangers doing their weekly rounds found the wreck after hikers called in with tips about smoke in areas not regulated for camping. Upon inspection it was found that a blue jeep had driven off of the mountain. The crash left the vehicle nearly indescribable. There is no word yet about the driver...but from what we saw of the wreckage...hope is very slim,"_the local news reporter of the town two towns over, explained.

Before they could go into deeper detail, the Sheriff was already out of the station. Deputy Parrish barely made it into the car after him, didn't even get to close the passenger's door as the cruiser sped off.

When they had to stop once to refuel, it was Parrish who got out and did it because the Sheriff was cursing and threatening bodily harm, the likes of which would make any demon wary.

Once they were off again with as full a tank as possible, they had the sirens blaring all the way. Somehow, Parrish convinced the Sheriff to head to the local police station rather than head off to look for Stiles in the mountains.

As much as the Sheriff was driven by passion and the love for his son, he needed to be logical if he didn't want to waste time. Time that could prove vital for Stiles.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" the local deputy there greeted them at the door when they got there.

Before the Sheriff could utter a word, Parrish placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. Turning to the other deputy, he introduced them, "I'm Kyle Parrish and this is Sheriff Stilinski. We're from Beacon Hills...there was a report about a blue jeep in the mountains?"

"Oh that. Our men are currently working with the rangers to see if we can figure out what happened. Might I asked why ___that_ brings you fellas here?"

"My son...my son is missing and his vehicle is a blue jeep," the Sheriff answered. His voice was that of a tired man and worried parent. Before the deputy could ask how he was sure his son was the owner of the vehicle in question, the Sheriff gave him the license plate number of Stiles Jeep and asked if they could just check.

The deputy nodded and went to see if the numbers matched. He asked Parrish and the Sheriff to please wait in the lobby until he ran the numbers.

Waiting had always been one of the worst things ever. In situations like these...it was even worse. There was a gnawing ache in the pit of your stomach that made you feel nauseated. The Sheriff sat there, shifting every other second, crossing and uncrossing his arms and legs and feeling this exact nausea. Doing so though reminded him of Stiles' ADHD and how it was biologically impossible for him to sit still. And thinking about his son and his struggles and how little he understood him or his problems only made the Sheriff feel worse.

When the deputy came back, his face was one that the Sheriff and Parrish were all too familiar with. It was the one they used when facing the next of kin with bad news of their loved ones.

"I'm very sorry Sheriff...the plates ___do_ match...and I don't know whether it's good news or bad but...there are no traces of your son."

The Sheriff let out a shaky breath, nodded, and stood up, "Is...is there a search party or investigation or anything I can help with?"

"There is a team of officers and rangers with a few dogs out there searching. I can give you a lift. If you have something of your son's for the dogs? I'm sure that'll be very helpful," the deputy suggested.

The Sheriff nodded. Stiles wasn't a stranger to the woods. He too thought of using their own search 'dogs' to look for his son through the woods. Thank god he decided to carry something of his son with him, it acted as a type of comfort. The officers could use that.

The ride to where Stiles' jeep was located was both painfully short and agonizingly long. He felt numb as they explained the situation there and gathered the dogs back so they could have Stiles' scent before heading back out.

Hours and hours passed with nothing. Eventually the Sheriff and Parrish were asked to go get some rest. The Sheriff argued for as long as he could before being pulled away by force. They got settled into the nearest motel and each got a room. Once the Sheriff was sure Parrish wouldn't notice, he snuck out and went back out to search. He had just gotten out of his car when a voice startled him.

"Sheriff."

"I shouldn't be surprised...have ___you_ found anything?" the Sheriff asked as Derek and the rest of the pack practically materialized from the woods in hiking clothing. They seemed prepared for a long excursion.

Shaking his head, Derek said, "No...the last place his scent is strongest-"

"And that's a generous description," Erica cut in.

"-is at the very top where..." ___where the Jeep drove off the cliff. _Was left unsaid by Derek but abundantly clear.

Sheriff gave a curt nod as he tried avoiding looking at the cliff, "Right...and? Can't you track it?"

Isaac gave a bit of a whimper but it was Scott who said, "His scent leads up there but then...then it..."

"Vanished," Boyd finished.

"What do you mean vanished? It can't have just vanished! I mean even if...even ___if_...something happened there ___should_ still be a scent! A trail!" the Sheriff insisted.

"We know," Erica said with a scowl as she clenched her hands, "Why do you think we're so pissed? It's not exactly easy, you know!"

"Erica! Not now," Boyd told her sternly while Derek and Scott sent her an extra glare. She bowed her head and apologized quietly. If there was anyone who would take Stiles' current MIA status the hardest, it would be his father.

"We'll find him, Mr. Stilinski," Lydia swore and next to her Jackson just grunted in agreement.

"There are people here looking. Make sure they don't catch you...you find ___anything_...anything ___at all_...come find me. I gotta get back before Parrish realizes I'm gone." the Sheriff said as he began to make his way down the mountain. Derek ordered Boyd to make sure he got back down safely while the others continued their search.

It was heartbreaking for all, human or supernatural being, to have to admit that whatever lead they might have had there, was now a dead end. Stiles wasn't there. Stiles wasn't in Beacon Hills. They looked and they thought and they plotted new ways or methods to find him. Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months. Before they knew it, the one year anniversary came around of their missing pack-mate. Still, they continued to look. Even when accusations ran high. Even when all seemed hopeless. So long as there was no body to find, they held on to hope that Stiles was out there. What other choice did they have?

* * *

.:~*~:.

"So, what exactly is it that Hunter stumbled upon?" Stiles asked the Doctor once they were in flight again. They'd stopped once to get a lot of mirrors and other reflective things.

"Yeah, what did Hunter stumble upon?" Hunter repeated as he walked around, examining the Tardis with a face that of a child at Christmas time.

"Weeping Angels," the Doctor replied somberly and when he only got two matching curious looks he continued, "They're alien, well at least to this planet. And they're old. Oh so very old. They appear to you as statues. Thing is if you blink...then that's it. They've got you and you're gone. They're deadly fast and dangerous because of this. They don't kill you. They send you back in time. That's what they feed off of, potential time energy."

"You have a time machine...can't we just save the people that the angels targeted?" Stiles asked.

"Whoa, this is ___also_ a time machine?!" Hunter exclaimed, eyes bugging out with excitement. "Wicked!"

The Doctor smiled at Hunter and nodded before frowning and turning to Stiles, "Sadly no. When sent back the angels have successfully eaten that potential time energy. Picking up someone like that and putting them in the Tardis could possibly rip a hole in the universe. I make this look easy but really it's ___very_ dangerous. That's why I need you to be careful Stiles."

Stiles gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder, "Don't worry, I will."

"If they're statues or statue like, does that mean that they've been stored, possibly for millenniums, within the pyramid somehow...and whatever caused the surge in magnetic energy gave them their crack or whatever of escape in the pyramid?" Hunter asked as he played with the strap of his bag.

"...possibly. Very good possibility actually. Taking that into account and your notes, I assume that right now only one is free. And that one is slowly building up energy. So we have two things to do," the Doctor began to flip levers, "One, find the freed Weeping Angel without getting touched and sent back in time, or killed for that matter. Two, find the crack in the pyramid that holds possibly more deadly Angels and seal it shut without any possibility of it ever being opened again and...we need to go shopping again. Hang on boys!"

As the Doctor punched in the coordinates and shot them around space and time, Stiles and Hunter held onto the rails. When the jostling slowed down and the Doctor continued fiddling with the console, Hunter sat himself on the grating and took out the compass he'd shown them earlier.

"That looks kind of old," Stiles commented as he followed and sat next to Hunter. Maybe this was his chance to find out more about the teen.

"It's really old...from Old Earth, actually," Hunter answered with a smile.

Stiles blinked in surprise, "Really?"

"My mom was a historical geek. She said that if you wanted a bright future, you had to understand the past," Hunter was quiet for a moment as he twirled the compass between his hands, "She said that this was what my dad proposed with...he was a pilot. He loved being in the sky...he was clever and brave. One day he was briefed, along with a group of others, about how this important politician was kidnapped and held overseas. My dad braved enemy lines and led a small team to extract him. He was this old rich dude that collected valuable artifacts. In exchange for saving his life, he'd given this to my dad, seventeenth century relic from Old Earth...when he showed it to my mom, mom said he had this cocky smirk on his face as he leaned in the door frame before getting on one knee and telling her 'if you marry me...you can have it.' He opened it and there was a diamond ring inside but it was the compass that sealed the deal..."

"What happened?" Stiles asked before he could help himself. Him being at the museum every day wasn't just because he loved the museum.

Hunter shrugged, "War...terrorism...he saved the country from disaster but went down with his plane. The museum has a memorial for him. It was big news and whatever. Only reason they still remember him is cos he really made it difficult for the other attackers to do much harm to his men. And he left this emotional goodbye to me and my mom. When he passed, it was just my mom and I. I did my best to stay out of trouble, not easy, but I did it for her. Once school was done, I'd wait for her at the museum, by dad's memorial. She'd meet me there after work. That's how I sorta became friends with all the personnel...my only friends really. Then one day...I waited...and waited...and waited. The next day I realized I was an orphan because of an accident. The last I have of either of my parents is this compass really."

Stiles could only stare at the boy as he paused and looked down at the compass in his hand. Now he knew why there was something familiar about the boy. It was Stiles. Hunter was like him.

"The bravery and cleverness my father showed to get it...and the love and enthusiasm my mom held for it," he shook his head, realizing how much he had shared. He seemed to backpedal, "Sorry. You're not interested in my back story."

Stiles shook his head now and began to play with a loose thread on his pants, "No, it's okay...I know what it's like...I lost my mom to sickness when I was a kid. I was always a troubled kid too...but hey, look at us now. Traveling through space and time and kicking bad guy alien butt." Stiles smiled gently and bumped his shoulder with Hunter's, trying to break the tension, trying to show Hunter he wasn't alone in this craziness, "We're the wayward sons of New and Old Earth. Traveling the universe with a madman with two hearts."

"You're from Old Earth?" Hunter asked and looked at Stiles with wide, amazed eyes.

"Yeah...I'm a fossil," Stiles joked as he waved a hand over his body.

Hunter continued to look at him with wide eyes, "I wish my mom would have had a chance to meet you...she'd bug you forever with questions, but..."

Stiles continued where Hunter stopped, "I wish I could have met her. I'd have answered all she had to ask me."

"You boys ready? I think I've got all we need," the Doctor called out as he walked around the console, arms weighed down by things.

Stiles smirked at Hunter and held out his fist, "Ready to save the day oh fellow Troubled Kid?"

Hunter smirked back and bumped Stiles fist with his own, "Born ready, Misfit Bro."

The Doctor held out various weird mirrors to them when they stood, "Alright...everyone grab a mirror, if you see movement, stare and remember, don't blink!"


	4. The Beginning to the End

Residents of Bad Wolf Bay

Chapter 4: The Beginning to the End (Chapter title may change later)

.:~*~:.

The Doctor parked the Tardis a few blocks away, wanting the element of surprise to be on their side. He and the boys had all sorts of mirrors attached to them to help them see all angles. Using his sonic screwdriver to unlock one of the side entrances, the Doctor led them inside, reminding them to be cautious.

It was about two hours before the museum's morning shift would arrive. The Doctor knew how dangerous the angels were. He'd seen many lose so much because of them. Knowing he had a Time Machine but couldn't do anything to save those people and return them to their families who were waiting for them, it made both his hearts ache.

Sparing a look at Stiles and Hunter, two lonely boys the universe seemed to have tossed aside, he couldn't be careless here. He couldn't do things on a whim. He needed to make sure that at the end of today and as many days after, that both boys would be alright. Ducking behind a corner, the Doctor made sure the coast was clear before nudging with his head to keep on going.

.:~*~:.

None of them spoke, whether it was keeping the element of surprise or busy with their own thoughts, the silence around them was a bit deafening. They were nearing the lobby with the automated walk path that Hunter had suggested they ride towards the Egyptian Exhibit earlier. Stiles looked into the room and though the lights still hadn't been turned on, there were the few that illuminated some of the showcases a bit, as well as the natural light from outside as morning approached.

"This place has some of the most ancient artifacts left of the Old Earth...even if no one believes something bad has happened to the people who aren't reporting for work...shouldn't there still be replacements?" Stiles asked.

Hunter shook his head, "No. The acceptance process to work in this place is a bit of wait...even if they are understaffed. In order to be allowed to work here, you have to be approved."

"Approved?" the Doctor repeated.

Hunter gave them a helpless look. It didn't really make too much sense to him either but that's how it's always been. "I brought this up when the first couple people began to disappear. I also pointed out that for all the museum they had to cover, weren't they a bit understaffed even before."

"And?" the Doctor coaxed. His eyes darting back and forth looking for any sign of movement but trying to really focus on Hunter.

Hunter shrugged, "I was always told I was just over thinking. That this was how things always were. 'If it's not broke, don't fix it' is what they'd tell me," then he shook his head and pointed to the left of them and spoke in a whisper, "We should be careful right now. If that clock over there is right, one of the guards on duty should be passing by in the next three minutes."

Stiles and the Doctor nodded and they got back into their hiding position. They kept looking around and in their mirrors while straining their ears. As two minutes passed by all they heard was their breathing. But on the third minute they heard the echoing steps of someone coming down the corridor.

They held their breaths and hoped the guard would just pass by without noticing them. However the guard never reached their hiding spot. There was an odd buzzing and then a thud.

"What happened?" Hunter whispered.

"The guard was tasered," Stiles replied without hesitation, he knew that sound.

"What?" Hunter's voice rose above a whisper and his eyes widened in shock and worry.

"I saw a flash of it in the mirror...I couldn't see who did it though. Do Weeping Angels taser people?" Stiles asked the Doctor.

"That was no Weeping Angel," the Doctor said seriously as he stepped out of their hiding spot. Hunter and Stiles followed him and they saw the pants legs and shoes of the guard as he was dragged into the Egyptian Exhibit.

"Doctor?" Stiles spoke out, his eyes wide.

"Keep a look out still for movement but...I don't think we're dealing with angels. Not directly. Come on." The Doctor motioned to follow and as Stiles and Hunter spared a look at each other, they followed the Doctor towards the exhibit.

.:~*~:.

As half a year crept by, Stiles disappearance rattled everyone in their own way. The Sheriff used as many connections as he could to get Stiles' profile in as many data bases as he could. Chris Argent, who had a few connections of his own, did the same. The hunter put it upon himself to be there as moral support for the Sheriff. Stiles had meant to the Sheriff what Allison had meant to him, and he couldn't imagine ever losing his baby girl.

On one of the nights that the Sheriff was drunk and in a bitter mood he had asked if Chris was relieved. At the time the Sheriff had been their concern since all form of supernatural activity seemed to be really low, so Chris hadn't thought much of it and asked what he meant and why would he be. The Sheriff had just scoffed and merely said, "All it took for your daughter to stop dating Scott was for my son to disappear."

Chris didn't comment and the Sheriff tried apologizing the next morning but the hunter told him not to worry about it. Though the Sheriff assumed he did a bit. Scott's guilt had hit him hard, so hard that Melissa had him see a therapist. Aside from seeing a shrink his relationship with Allison didn't last.

As the months dragged on Stiles' scent got colder and dead ends were all they ended up with. Allison, along with Erica and Boyd were beginning to make peace with the only logical option. Stiles was gone. Whether he was dead or not they'd never know. Despite all of their connections and abilities, Stiles wasn't turning up...and they had their own lives. Were they sad? Of course...but they hadn't known Stiles enough to be as paralyzed by his disappearance as his father had been.

That caused tension in the pack. Whatever differences in the way the pack was handled that they had before, Scott and Derek were getting along better as time passed. And they were dead set on finding Stiles, even if that meant putting their lives on hold. Derek was a loner most of the time, except for his Uncle and Cora. But Cora was away and his uncle backed him up in his search for Stiles. Scott on the other hand...he knew that being a werewolf and the search for Stiles would tie him to Beacon Hills. But in the beginning of the search he and Allison had still made plans: college, career, the next step in their relationship. Either way these two very different werewolves didn't give up.

Saying that Lydia and Jackson cared more about Stiles' than Erica and Boyd would be incorrect. Lydia and Jackson just had a longer mourning period than the others did. They were equally torn between hanging on to hope and moving on with their lives. They had known Stiles too. For better or for worse considering their treatment of him, they cared. And that kept them awake some days when a memory would trigger something fierce inside of them to find him, to say they were sorry, that they wanted him to come home. But eventually they too were moving on. They still jumped at possible leads that Derek, Chris or the Sheriff found, but other than moving on with their lives they helped care for the pack the way they knew how; by making sure all members had what they materially needed. It was something small but it was something.

It was clear that the Hales and Scott were ___not_ going to give up, which left Isaac. He didn't think about moving on like most of the pack but he also recognized that what Derek and Scott were doing was unhealthy. As physically safe as he was in comparison to when his fate was tied to his father, mentally and emotionally he knew he was in a bad situation. The pack was being torn apart and he felt like he was losing his family again. So he fought. He fought to keep them together.

Derek and Scott's temper kept them from seeing eye to eye even if they were on the same team. They clashed a lot, and most of it was to some sort of right the other had in doing one thing or another. It only got worse as time progressed. Between Melissa, the Sheriff, and Isaac they were slowly getting through to Scott. Not making him give up but putting him on the path of forgiving himself when it came to Stiles. It was going to be a long process but they had already lost Stiles...they couldn't lose anyone else.

Derek was a whole other story. No one could get through to him. Not Scott, not Peter, and definitely not Isaac, though he had tried.

.:~*~:.

Isaac sighed as he mentally prepared himself for yet another attempt. He walked into the living room which over the last few months seemed to turn into an investigation room. It was a scene out of any crime show with boards that held up pinned maps, pictures of Stiles, newspaper clippings.

One month there had been five boards all full with things Derek insisted had some connection to Stiles. How? Isaac wasn't sure.

After the lot of them had given up looking on the mountain top where Stiles' Jeep was found, Derek had stayed longer. He told them there had been other people that night on the mountain top. He swore up and down that there were other investigators there who were saying weird and strange things. People who weren't with the local law enforcement or any that he knew of. Derek thought that they were looking for Stiles and it took them a while to convince Derek to see how ridiculous that was. They were just other detectives.

Stiles had been human. If there was anyone looking for him outside of the local police because of his connection to the supernatural, with all the time they had spent on that mountain, or how careless they had always been and even more so since Stiles disappeared, these so called special investigators would have easily found their way to Beacon Hills.

The next morning three of the boards disappeared. On one board, like he said, had all the information they had of Stiles. On the other was Derek's deduction of possible places Stiles may be or what could have taken him. There were places like distant relatives he could have sought out refuge with. He had also pulled all nighters with Scott and Peter to do an evaluation of the town's perimeter, keeping an eye out for anything supernatural that could have taken Stiles. Another pack, some witches, some fae, something! Anything for them to chase...to catch...to save Stiles from.

Those had all been dead-ends too.

Isaac found Derek like anyone would find him these days. Like a statue in front of his maps, eyes boring holes into them, darting between the thumb pins that connected the red thread from one place to another, sharpie in hand ready to make some sort of note or another deduction.

"You have to stop...please?" Isaac asked so quietly that had Derek not been a werewolf he might not have heard it. Isaac wasn't sure if Derek was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear him or if he was ignoring the younger wolf when he entered. Either way he spoke again, louder this time, "This is not healthy. Stiles wouldn't-"

"If you say Stiles wouldn't want this for me then you can shut up right now, Isaac. Stiles isn't here to tell me what he would want for me, so using him against me isn't going to work. And it isn't fair, damn it!" Derek swore and Isaac felt the anger immediately, making him whimper at upsetting his Alpha. But he stood his ground.

"Then what should I say here, Derek? What can any one of us say to make you listen to reason?" Isaac demanded.

Derek turned to look at Isaac, his eyes flashing dangerously with anger and tiredness, "I'm not going to listen to anyone who tells me to stop. Why doesn't anyone get that? Scott is slowly giving up. If I follow suit, then who will be left to look? No one! There'll be no one to care and that was the reason he left in the first place. So unless you have any valuable information to give me regarding Stiles, get the hell out of my face!"

It'd been an order and not one Isaac wanted to disobey. He was hurting too and Derek's attitude had him question a lot in the following weeks. The pack's dynamics, the pack's future, his own future. Try as he might he really couldn't see that far. It had a lot to do with his life before. Some days he was very scared for his life and wouldn't dare to dream of years down the line. For a time he had dared to dream...friends, family, a good life. But now...the future was dark again. He was alone. He was afraid.

So he ran to where his feet led him...to where his heart led him. Finding himself in Stiles room was no surprise to him. When he woke up the next morning on Stiles' floor with a pillow under his head and a blanket over his body, he didn't bother to leave through the window. He ventured downstairs, and felt as numb as the Sheriff looked.

Seeing Isaac come down the Sheriff grabbed another bowl and motioned for the young wolf to grab the only box of cereal available. They shared their first quiet breakfast that first day. After the fifth time the Sheriff casually mentioned getting new sheets for the guest room later after his shift. Isaac nodded and later went out to buy groceries. It was the only calm in his life and he felt like both needed the company.

As tempted as Isaac was to move into Stiles room, and even though he usually slept on the floor next to Stiles' bed like a faithful dog waiting for his master, Isaac had officially claimed the Stilinski's spare bedroom.

.:~*~:.

Sheriff Stilinski stared at his calendar. There were no extraordinary marks other than X's signifying that yet another day had passed. Another day without word or hint of Stiles. The trail had long been dead and hope was slowly dying, though it wasn't dead yet. Throughout the year he had hoped, he had prayed for some sort of miracle.

He'd hoped to hear from Stiles. A call, a letter, hell, even an anonymous postcard. He'd know it was from him. Who else in the world did he have to send a postcard from god knows where? No random postcards from nowhere arrived however. No phone call where it was quiet from the other line before the person on the other side hanged up. And least of all, Stiles hadn't shone up on his front step looking awkward and sheepish, unsure how to explain his return.

The last one was the most painful to think about but it was also what the Sheriff daydreamed about the most.

How it would be just another day where he tried to keep himself busy, and out of the blue the doorbell would ring. He would cross out names of who it could be by who he was expecting, like Parrish on the days he wasn't due at the station and the blond would come in to make sure he had eaten. Or maybe it was Scott with Melissa who were also checking up on him because they hadn't been free until then. But no, it wouldn't be any of them. It would be Stiles. He could gain immortality and learn every language in existence since the creation of the planet and still he wouldn't have enough words to properly say how much he missed his son. And even with all those words, seeing his son would render him speechless. Stiles would fidget in his place before giving him some sort of remark with some sort of grin only Stiles would do, then they'd hug, and begin to cry and apologize until the sun arose on another day.

Some days the Sheriff would lose himself in that day dream that a whole day ___would_ pass by.

For a moment, as he opened his eyes, he would be at peace. The ignorant bliss that came with being between the world of sleep and wakefulness blinding him. Then reality would come crashing back with a horrible ache in his chest. Instead of his arms being full of his son like in his dreams...they were empty.

The Sheriff cries, but not in front of others. He still does his job and he does it well. Criminal activity has been it's lowest in decades. The town is cleaner and had that picture perfect small town image the brochures that can be found in rest stops on the way in looked like. He was an outstanding citizen with all the merits of a strong leader. But there was only so long he could maintain that strength. Once he found a moment of solitude and all visible eyes were off of him, he broke down.

He meant 'visible eyes' because there was one moment when he had gotten very drunk and was so depressed and so angry...he went into a rage. He'd cut himself and though it was a clumsy accident, it was a horrible wound and began to bleed out. With a dry chuckle he watched as the blood left his body and the bittersweet thought that he would finally find a moment's peace in death. Be reunited with his wife and son, because he was a cop, he knew the statistics no matter how much he wanted to deny them. But there was no reunion. There was a loud clash and the yelling that followed. He'd lost too much blood at that point and was lightheaded and woozy. The next time he woke up he was in the hospital. The visit there passed in a blur like most days now did but he would never do that again.

When he next arrived at the station the next day, bandaged and all, he thought he'd be the town's pariah again. One of the draw backs of a small town; your business was everyone's business. He was however surprised when he was deemed a hero rather than a pathetic man in despair and a vice. As the story went, Peter Hale had gotten overly angry for no apparent reason and began making a scene. When the Sheriff stepped in, he got volatile, but it didn't deter the Sheriff at all. Parrish was called in as back up but by the time he got there the damage was done. Peter Hale spent the night in jail until the next morning when his nephew came to bail him out.

He didn't try hard to contact Peter Hale to ask him why he made himself to be the Sheriff's scapegoat, but he was still grateful nonetheless. Since then he knew he was being watched despite thinking otherwise. He was glad they at least respected the illusion of giving him privacy when he needed time for himself. He was glad that they let him mourn Stiles.

.:~*~:.

"Now, now...don't you know that spying is a very rude thing to do?" a voice cut through the silence before the person who spoke sighed and continued, "Oh Hunter...you really should be careful of the company you keep. It's the Doctor, is it?"

There was another bout of silence, this one shorter, before the Doctor stepped out with Hunter and Stiles behind him. The Doctor's face was held in a firm frown with his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the man in front of the pyramid. The man seemed to be in his mid to late 40's, his hair was that salt and pepper color men with dark hair get as they begin to grey. He wore a suit with a tweed jacket and held a suitcase.

"You seem to know me and Hunter. This is our friend Stiles. Who are you?" the Doctor asked and there was a fearful hardness to it that Stiles has only heard a few times before. Each time during what one could classify as dire situations.

"That's Mr. Karr. He's the curator here," Hunter answered the Doctor's question but his voice held the confusion Stiles' face probably held.

Stiles had a sinking feeling in his stomach though. From his small chat with Hunter in the Tardis he knew the teen didn't have friends outside of the museum's staff. That might have included this so called curator that personally to him seemed very much like a Bond Villain. From the Doctor's hard tone and Hunter's confusion, Stiles knew they were all on the same page. They may not know the details but they knew this guy was bad news. And seeing Hunter's hurt expression made Stiles really want to punch the guy in the face repeatedly. Hunter had trusted this man.

"Well...I was just a mere curator. Until I realized I was chosen by Heaven and it's Angels. I always knew I was no mere mortal...I am a prophet and I saw so many things," Mr. Karr drawled, a bit of a deranged chuckle escaping his lips.

"Oookay, I say we tie up the looney curator, secure the pyramid, then head out to a Bon Jovi concert. All in favor, say aye," Stiles said as he raised his hand after waving both to motion to all the things he mentioned.

"Aye," the Doctor agreed as Hunter just looked at the curator with a mix of disbelief and anger.

The curator threw his head back and laughed before turning to look at the three, "You poor little sheep...so lost...so troubled. If only you could see what I see. But I suppose it was for the better that you didn't. Given what's going to happen next."

"What are you talking about, Mr. Crazy Pants?" Stiles asked before he could help himself.

"At first it was just Hunter...he would be the last that they would need before myself. Until you arrived. Now they will be satisfied...and allow me to live to see their glory!" Mr. Karr cried out in glee.

"What are you talking about?" Hunter repeated Stiles' question, hesitation clear in his voice.

"He means...he's been sacrificing innocent people to the angels without letting them out. He was going to sacrifice himself after doing the same to Hunter, giving the angels enough power to break free from their prison. Whoever helped move the pyramid did something to it. What? I don't know. But it has a powerful enough force field that whenever the angels tried to leave it gave off a powerful magnetic pulse in response. It's bloody brilliant for us...but not them. Or you. Each time the angels tried it they wasted some of the energy you've been supplying for them. But they've learned their lesson and have been keeping from trying to escape until they have enough power to spring free," the Doctor explained as he took a step forward and held his arm out to keep Stiles and Hunter back as a sign of protection. Glaring daggers at the man he tried to beg the man to see reason, "I don't know exactly what you believe, Mr. Karr, but these things...they aren't some holy creatures that perform miracles. They're dangerous monsters that once free may very well kill you!"

"God's hand may be firm as well as that of his soldiers of Heaven, but it is needed. It's all part of his Great Plan. A plan I have seen with my very eyes. Hunter will be sacrificed as many other disciples have been for the greater good," the curator said. The look in Mr. Karr's eye was now manic as he took a step forward and Stiles pulled Hunter behind him in the same protective manner the Doctor had taken earlier.

Mr. Karr held his arm out to Hunter and looked at him pleadingly, "Please Hunter...many people have doubted God's existence on ___this_ Earth for a long, long time. This is our chance to prove to them that He and his Angels have not forsaken us. This is our purpose...your father was a hero who died valiantly. Your mother's death was a tragedy...don't you miss them? Don't you want to see them again? Come with me...with us. The Angels will take you to them and you can be a family again...aren't you tired of being alone?"

"SHUT UP!" Stiles yelled. The Doctor and Hunter looked taken a back that it had been Stiles to yell but Stiles didn't notice their reactions. He was too busy shaking with anger and glaring at the curator, "Shut. Up. You don't say that to him! You have ___no_ idea what it's like! It's painful enough as it is dealing with their absence without people like ___you_ saying shit like that! He ___doesn't_ need you! He's ___not_ alone! You ___can't_ have him! We're ___not_going to let you hurt him! We're saving him!"

"Well then...you heard my friend. This stops now. Come with us quietly while we sort this all out," the Doctor said calmly after giving Stiles a proud smile. But that smile faded when he heard the curator laugh again. It was an evil laugh if he'd ever heard one.

"I don't think you understand, Doctor and...Stills? Whatever," he laughed as he waved off Stiles offhandedly, "Prophecies happen whether people want them to or not...if the Angels have foreseen this, then it shall happen. I will make sure of it." Reaching into his pocket, the curator took out a small hand held remote and pressed a few buttons. Some of the ___personnel only_ doors opened and some angry, determined looking thugs in security uniforms with burning blue eyes stepped out and headed towards the trio. Their movements were stilted and mechanical but they were moving fast.

"I don't like the sound of that," Stiles commented as he backed up a few steps.

"I really don't like the sound or look of that," Hunter added.

"Ditto," the Doctor agreed as he turned to look at them, "RUN!"

.:~*~:.

After years of waking up around the usual hour, even on the days he had off and turned off his alarm clock, his body still woke up at a similar time. The Sheriff stretched as he got up. It was sunny but quiet, but maybe that was just his own opinion. Stiles always had trouble keeping quiet. Never had that not been a comment on his report cards. While others thought it was a problem, and a problem he had to deal with, the Sheriff found it endearing. As his wife would tell him, "___He's just a boy, happy with life. Happy with his life and he wants to share that with you. Never tell him to be quiet, dear. Or one day he will be and it'll haunt you."_

And maybe that's why the secrecy in the beginning of the werewolf debacle had hurt so much. The quiet left behind by both of them was deafening. It drove him, then and now, insane to the point that he always had to have the radio or television on in the background as some sort of white noise. Anything to keep the silence at bay.

After going through his morning routine and getting changed he went to Stiles room and found it empty. It was silly but he never stopped hoping to find his son in there. Though these last few months it was where he would find Isaac in the morning, but the teen wasn't there. He went to the guest room that became Isaac's room but it was open and empty. The Sheriff furrowed his brow but he shook his head. It ___was_ the one year anniversary of Stiles' disappearance and he wasn't the only one who would have plans to deal with the pain.

He made his way downstairs and saw that Isaac was already there with breakfast already made for them. It was nothing fancy, some instant oatmeal; light and healthy like Stiles would've wanted. Isaac took over as the Sheriff's diet supervisor in the time he had been there. When Isaac first moved in the Sheriff would only eat when he remembered and there had been a lot of days when he had forgot. The young wolf understood that some days their stomachs couldn't handle much but he knew Stiles would throw a fit if he knew his father wasn't eating properly. It also gave Isaac purpose and something to do. He would never match Stiles' cooking abilities, but he watched hundreds of Youtube videos and bought cook books and tried for the healthier things that looked good to eat.

Despite the Sheriff's own questionable moments of being able to take care of himself, and how much some of the others fussed, he didn't think Isaac moving into the guest room was 100% because of him. It was more of a mutual benefiting arrangement. He remembered the day he invited Isaac to just move in relatively well, he didn't regret it.

Isaac got a sense of what a real father was supposed to be like and the Sheriff had reason once more. He wasn't replacing Stiles...no one could ever replace his son no matter what. But he didn't deny that having Isaac to take care of did help keep the edge off.

Though the boy had moved all his stuff in to the guest bedroom he had the habit of sleeping on Stiles' floor as if waiting. On bad nights when nightmares were involved, or a particularly bad day, he'd curl himself on the bed but they were rare days.

"You're up early," the Sheriff commented as he took his usual seat.

"I haven't slept actually," Isaac said honestly. That was another token in regard to Stiles. He knew how much honesty meant to the human and his father. It was weird at first but eventually it became normal and liberating in some ways.

The Sheriff gave him a look but rather than lecturing him about the lack of sleep and what it does to the body, werewolf or not, he said, "Try to take a nap later, okay?"

Isaac nodded and they ate their oatmeal in silence for a bit. To the Sheriff it seemed like Isaac wanted to ask something, he could practically see the cogs turning in the teen's mind. He'd let the boy come up with the words and ask when he was ready.

"Do you have any plans for today?" Isaac finally asked.

The Sheriff swirled his oatmeal a bit before pushing is away, he'd eaten most of it anyway. He leaned back into his chair and spoke, "I was just going to patrol the area. Look through some databases, make some calls...but Parrish and the others have ganged up on me and made me take the day off. So...I'm going to visit my wife. Talk to her about everything. It was what I did with Stiles when she first passed, to help him cope."

"...___does_ it help?" Isaac asked looking down at his own bowl, swirling the remains of his oatmeal.

"I think it did," the Sheriff replied after taking a deep breath. At Isaac's imploring look he continued, "Stiles was young when he lost his mother...and because of her illness he saw her as she was slowly dying. As much as we'd like to think that because he's was a child he didn't fully understand what was going on...he did. He knew enough...he knew he was losing his mother. For about a month after she passed he didn't speak a word. Not even Scott could get him to talk. I took him to a therapist and all sort of doctors and it was the same answer. He'd talk when he was ready. At first I thought he'd never be ready...but it wasn't about when he'd talk again. It was about who he'd talk again to."

Isaac furrowed his brow in confusion, "What do you mean?"

"He was a little boy who missed his mother...and I wasn't a religious man. Still aren't. But I took Stiles to visit his mother's grave. I told him that if he ever got lonely and wanted to talk to her, that is where he could find her. That even though his mother lived on in him and through him...that if he ever wanted to feel closer to her...she was listening."

"Did it work?" Isaac asked.

The Sheriff nodded, "After a week he was talking a mile a minute again." He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, "It hurt...losing her. We loved her so much. That pain was...paralyzing. I couldn't bring myself to talk about her without losing my composure. What I didn't realize was that that was hurting Stiles. He was young...so young. He didn't remember Claudia like I did. He didn't have the time with her like I had. To help him remember her in general, and help me remember the better time...I took Stiles with me to see her...and I'd tell him everything."

He took a moment to compose himself before he spoke the words he'd never said aloud.

"Honestly Isaac...I don't know if Stiles will come back. As a policeman I have to acknowledge the facts, but as his father I have to keep hope he's alive. Regardless of either side...there are days when I try to remember him...and I can't. His voice is fading in my memory...I have to look at pictures constantly to remember the shade of his eyes...so today I'm talking a photo album of my family to my wife's grave and I'm going to go through them. And hope with all my heart that when I get back home my son will be here."

"...can I go with you?" Isaac asked before adding in a hurry, "I don't know what anyone else is doing but I don't have anywhere to be and being here I just...I can't and..."

"Isaac," the Sheriff said, stopping the teen mid-sentence, "I'd be happy if you'd accompany me."

Isaac smiled slightly and began to clean up so they could get going. As much as he loved to be near the remaining sense of Stiles' presence, today it was just too overbearing to be inside.

.:~*~:.

When they got back they were emotionally spent. The Sheriff had told many stories of his wife and his son. Isaac had felt the joy as well as sadness as the man spoke until he couldn't speak anymore. At times Isaac even told the Sheriff some of their less dangerous adventures.

Like every night Isaac headed to Stiles' room. Tonight he laid on the bed and hugged Stiles' pillow close to him. He laid there for hours just holding the pillow and staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. When he fished his phone out of his pocket and read the time he realized it was about one in the morning. He still couldn't sleep, so he got up and did a perimeter check.

He knew no one would knowingly attack the Sheriff's house but it made him feel more useful when he did them. Knowing Stiles' dad was safe put his wolf at ease, made him feel closer to Stiles. He was going his part. Once all the windows and doors were properly secured (minus' Stiles' window which was always left unlock for a pack member who just wanted a visit. That window must never be locked.), he went to check on the Sheriff.

The man was passed out on his bed, not even bothering to remove his clothes. Isaac at least removed the man's boots and covered him with an extra blanket from the hallway closet. He picked up the pill bottle on the night stand and counted the pills like he did every night. He wasn't sure exactly when the Sheriff was assigned antidepressants or sleeping pills for the insomnia that plagued him but Isaac knew he had them. Part of taking care of the man who allowed him access to what was left of Stiles' was to make sure the dosages weren't being abused. He knew that some nights the Sheriff didn't need the sleeping pills and some nights he did, and he kept track of it all.

Today the Sheriff had admitted a lot to Isaac he wasn't sure he'd shared with anyone else. The young wolf felt privileged to have that sort of trust because it couldn't be easy to say some of the things he'd said. The Sheriff was a man of power and the sort of vulnerability he showed wasn't common for said men of power. He'd admitted that there had been times when he'd contemplated doing the worst. What else did he have to live for. When his wife passed he had Stiles who reminded him so much of her. As much as it sometimes hurt to look at his son because he couldn't help but see her, it was also the thing that kept him going.

"Stiles was a lot like you too, Mr. Stilinski," he said into the quiet room, "It may be selfish but...you're another thing that's left of him. We're not going to let anything happen to you either."

The photo album was still in the Sheriff's grasp and Isaac was careful when he pulled it away and placed it gently on the nightstand. He went back to Stiles room and sat by the window. He swore he saw a pair of eyes out there but they were gone as soon as he blinked. If he was right, he'd say it was Peter. Any other pack member would have come inside (like Scott) or at least let themselves be seen (like Jackson). Peter liked to keep watch on the Sheriff, his reasons, Isaac didn't want to dwell on. But it was always from a distance.

Shaking his head, he picked up one of the nearby books of Stiles' collection and began to read.

.:~*~:.

As they ran Stiles heard the mechanical sounds behind them increase. He didn't dare look behind himself, afraid that he'd seem the thugs transform into something with claws and pincers. He did dare look to the sides as he ran for his life, looking for some quick exits. He noticed door openings either opening or closing on their own. He wasn't sure what it meant but he wasn't going to stop and ask questions now, he continued to run with The Doctor and Hunter.

The Doctor with his longs legs took the lead with Hunter and Stiles flanking him. At first they ran straight just to get some distance between them and the android dudes chasing them. Then they turned a corner hoping to lose them in whatever exhibit they'd come into.

As they entered the Religions exhibit, there were two other doorways on each side of the end. As they made it through, the door on the left was shutting closed so they veered right. Sadly the Doctor was quite the few steps ahead of the two teens. Just before they were going to pass through, iron prison like bars snapped down and blocked their path.

"DOCTOR!" Stiles and Hunter yelled in unison as they skidded to a halt.

"NO!" The Doctor yelled as he fumbled in his pocket for his sonic screwdriver and began to try to work the door open.

The lights in the room began to fritz, some of them turning on while others remained off, making it hard to really see. Exhibit displays began to function and stop randomly. But worst of all was that there were trap doors used to bring exhibit pieces up, littered around the room, that were opening and closing randomly.

"Not that I'm rushing you Doctor, but...yeah, I kind of sorta am," Stiles said as he fidgeted in place, watching the chaos around him while looking back at the Doctor ever so often to see if he'd made any progress with the door, he hadn't.

"Almost there, just a bit longer," the Doctor replied, eyes intently focused on the door panel.

Before Stiles could reply the floor beneath him disappeared and he felt his body drop. Without hesitation Hunter held on to the tapestry hanging near them before jumping down into the hole. The lights flickered like crazy as he reached out to Stiles who had crumbled to the floor below. "Stiles!" he desperately yelled.

Stiles scrambled to his feet at the yell and reached out to Hunter, trying as hard as he could to get a hold of the teen's hand. But he couldn't, he was to far. They both heard a large clatter in the hall that Stiles had been dropped into and saw the shadow of something moving and the mechanical clanking of the men chasing them in the floor above.

Stiles looked up at him, his eyes wide and panicked. He swallowed the fear down and seemed to pull himself together before saying, "Run."

And then he was off down the hallway.

Hunter couldn't help the shout that spewed from his lips, "STILES!"

"Stiles! Hunter! No, no, no!" The Doctor yelled as he finally got the doors opened. He peered down into the hole and pulled Hunter up. He desperately looked around for any sign of his companion, "STILES!"

Hunter got to his feet and pulled at the Doctor just as the android's appeared in the room, "Come on! We have to lose these guys and get to the lower floors. I know where to go."

Nodding rapidly, the Doctor hesitantly followed Hunter through the door he'd previously been stuck behind. He used his sonic screwdriver to throw the bars down once more and block the android's.

"Lead the way," The Doctor told Hunter and together they ran towards the lower levels. They had to find Stiles.

.:~*~:.

Stiles held a hand to his temple as he felt a shot of pain shoot through his head. He leaned against a wall for a second, the android sounds had seemed to fade behind him and he needed to collect himself. Pulling his hand away he saw blood on his hand. The lights were dim in this section of the museum but he could still see the red staining his fingers. His body hurt but because of previous supernatural adventures he'd had experiences with cuts, bruises and broken bones. Nothing was broken, just banged up.

He wiped the blood on his shirt and blinked several times to get his vision adjusted to the limited lighting. He was startled when he heard a buzzing hum come from around the corner. It didn't sound like the android's. It was a buzzing hum of what could either be the lights or some sort of generator. Stiles voted generator.

Being who he was, a natural born investigator who couldn't keep his nose out of things and the fact that there was some crazy curator around, he made his way around the corner. Instantly he regretted it.

Standing in front of him was the crazy curator, waiting for him in a large exhibit room. Stiles felt fear wash over him as the curator gave him a ferociously wide grin. He knew what that grin meant and it wasn't good. The things that followed it were usually much worse.

"The Angels told me Hunter was the one they needed," the curator began, "The lost boy no one would miss who had touched the stars and time itself. He was what they wanted...and they shall have him...in time. But you...Stiles. You and Hunter are brothers in arms. Alone and forgotten...but really you are just part of The Great Plan. The Angels know suffering, Stiles. They know you are no stranger to it. Feel proud and honored in being the first of the last sacrifice."

Stiles couldn't help but letting out a stunned, "Fuck."


	5. We have to be where we're needed

Residents of Bad Wolf Bay

Chapter 5: We can't always be where we want, sometimes we have to be where we're needed.

* * *

_.:~*~:._

_**BEEP BEEP BEEP**_

Isaac reached over and turned off the alarm. He hadn't slept, but he needed to be reminded of the time. His sleeping cycle was completely messed up. Some days there was nothing but nightmares waiting for him when he closed his eyes and not sleeping was the only way to avoid them. They were all about losing Stiles. Or how Stiles needed their help but they could never reach him in time. Then there were other days where staying awake was too bothersome and unconsciousness brought some mental relief from the tension of the day. Quite frankly it was all a mess.

After the trails ran cold, and he meant colder than an iceberg in Antarctica, things began to go down hill. Everyone processing things differently.

They had failed their friend. They had failed their pack member. It was a blow to their egos as much as it was to their hearts and minds. Each member of the pack was strong in their own way and talking about Stiles, whether it was about failing him or finding him, it made them vulnerable...and it was a state none of them liked. That was how Stiles became a taboo.

No one had the power or the courage to talk about him anymore. There were moments when it was obvious he was on all their minds but his name would never pass their lips. The only time he himself had managed to say his friend's name was when around the Sheriff or when begging Derek to understand his unhealthy habits for what they were. And even in those moments about 90% of the time he referred to Stiles as 'He' or 'Him'.

He once read somewhere that names held power. At the time he read it, it didn't stick with him as more than information to put into his paper. Now he understood what he read a bit more. There were examples in mythology, in history, in literature, all the way up to modern media. Names held power.

He wasn't sure if the rest of the pack had the same trouble with Stiles' name as he did. Jackson referred to him as Stilinski, and there was some heat in it but not towards Stiles as much as for himself. The longer Isaac read about names and their influence and power (it became his go-to distraction for a while) he assumed that Jackson believed he lost any right to call Stiles...Stiles. Others like Lydia would begin to say his name but would get emotionally stuck and switch to call him by a pronoun. On the other side there was Scott who seemed to use Stiles' name at every chance he got. There were times when Scott would think no one was watching and he'd open his wallet and just stare. Once he caught a glimpse of what Scott was looking at, it seemed to be a picture of him and Stiles. It reminded Isaac of what the Sheriff had confided in him on the anniversary of Stiles' disappearance.

As the days passed by, remembering Stiles was getting harder, and Scott being the person he was, was doing the best he could to keep from forgetting his best friend. Scott admitted to him once, after days of not sleeping, that he couldn't because he kept seeing Stiles go off that cliff top. Stiles would call him Scotty like no one else did, like no one else could. Then the ground beneath Stiles would begin to crack and though he tried to reach for his best friend, tree vines would wrap around Scott and hold him in place as he watched as the ground gave way under Stiles and he'd see his friend fall to his demise. Scott told him that the worst part was that he wasn't afraid of having that nightmare anymore. What he was afraid of was that it had become silent. Stiles' mouth still moving to form his name...but he couldn't hear him.

'_I can't remember how what he sounds like...you know, he started calling me Scotty when we were kids. His dad was busy working, my mom was busy working...we cared for each other and he'd call me Scotty because that's what a someone who takes care of you was supposed to do...be comforting when the rest of the world wasn't. He was the only one who really called me Scotty...only he knew _how_, ya know?'_

And Isaac did know. Stiles more than anyone knew the importance of a name. Though he never liked his own, it wasn't because he hated it, it was because no one else understood it and made fun of him because it was different. Made him different. But it was the name his mother chose for him, and after his talks with the Sheriff, Isaac believed Stiles' real name was more like a family secret. More so a secret he shared with his mother.

Stiles had this power to make so much emotion go into a name. Isaac remembered not thinking much of his own name. The way his father used it...with disdain, disgust, hate...it wasn't anything worth remembering. But when Stiles said it...it changed. His name, his life, his family; they all changed.

Before he became a werewolf he was a constant victim to his father's torment. He felt weak and worthless in the worst ways. This man that was in charge of caring for him, and he used that term very loosely, was his family. He was supposed to care, nurture, and protect him. Instead he felt like a servant who could only do wrong. When he was turned he finally felt powerful. For once he felt like the pain he felt at his father's hand would never reach him again...but it never really left. The wounds and bones healed, but the words took far longer.

It was through seeing Stiles and Scott, Stiles and his dad, Stiles and just any body...even with Jackson. Even with the guy who bullied him, he was morally sound and showed the best. Stiles became the glue that made them all more than just a pack allied together to protect Beacon Hills, he made them a family.

For once...for once he knew what it was like to be in a family. Friends that cared for his well being and had no ulterior motive. They just cared. He wanted them to know he cared too. He wanted to protect them any way he could. He was powerful now that he was a wolf.

Maybe that's why it hurt so much. Now he didn't have the excuse of fearing what his father would do to him, or not being strong enough, or not being fast enough. He was the strongest he had ever been and he had failed his friend...his family. Where Derek was strict and Scott was oblivious, Stiles knew the perfect balance of teaching him without making him feel small or confused. He didn't realize how much he owed Stiles until he was gone. Wherever Stiles was, because he refused to believe Stiles was dead, he was out there thinking no one here appreciated him or anything he did, and that made Isaac's stomach lurch. The thought that he made Stiles feel anyway remotely close to how his father made him feel.

Isaac shook his head to clear his thoughts. He managed to get through his morning routine but when he stepped into the hallway he closed his bedroom door behind him by leaning against it. He stood there for a moment taking in the sounds of an old house and trying to just...not..._think_!

The house was quiet since the Sheriff was still at work and he turned off the television and radio before leaving, the usual white noise that filled the void when neither felt like talking or avoiding the elephant in the room that was Stiles missing constant chatter. Isaac instead concentrated on the activity in the neighborhood. Cars arriving and leaving, children talking and running as they got ready for school. The clatter of dishes as meals were prepared or finished. Dogs barking, cats meowing, birds chirping. All of it was a whirlwind in Isaac's mind as he tried to focus intently on those things rather than the problems in his life.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there but his legs cramping woke him from his thoughts. Not feeling like making himself breakfast or doing anything else that required too much thought, he decided to go back to the bathroom and shower.

After he finished changing he walked around aimlessly around the house, fixing anything out of place. There was no one at the moment he wanted to see. The Sheriff wouldn't be home for a few more hours and he doubted he could concentrate long enough to do his homework. The passing anniversary, Stiles anniversary, had made it so that when he looked at the words in his books they didn't cling to him. He would read them over a dozen times in hopes to get some sort of concentration and still he had no idea what a single passage had actually said. After about 20 minutes he felt his breath begin to pick up and he felt like the walls were closing in; he needed to get out. His wolf howled with the need for freedom, the need to escape as he stood outside of Stiles room, the door open and the window letting in a breeze he wanted to get lost in. And so he ran.

He stepped into Stiles room and jumped out the window. Landing with a loud thud, he felt the pain as his feet hit the ground. It was a welcomed feeling compared to the numbness he had been feeling for days. He took off then. Where didn't matter, all that mattered was that he couldn't sit still when he thought of Stiles.

* * *

.:~*~:.

"Come on, this way," Hunter instructed as they ducked into another hallway on their way to the lower floors.

Hunter was trying to keep his face neutral and not let his emotions get in the way. Saving Stiles was their first priority, dealing with Mr. Karr could wait until they got their friend back. But it was hard to push back the anger he felt due to the betrayal. The betrayal of a person who he thought cared about him, watched over him.

The corridors were long and they remained silent until they reached the ends of a particularly long one, reaching a lift that would take them towards the lower levels. The Doctor was keeping an eye out to make sure they weren't being followed too closely, that nothing else would surprise them along the way, but also watching Hunter.

"You okay?"

Taking a shaky breath in, Hunter thought about lying but decided against it, "No...but let's save Stiles and I will be."

The Doctor could only nod as they made it into the lift. He used his sonic screwdriver activate the lift and to descend into the lower levels of the museum in the hunt for their friend and companion, Stiles.

* * *

.:~*~:.

_Nine year old Hunter sat on the other side of the room where the memorial for his father sat. From where he was he could see it perfectly, well almost perfectly. There was always someone passing by and blocking his view. It was the military section of the museum so his view depended on the time of day. He had a journal in his lap and a pen in his hand._

"_Somewhat slow today, huh kiddo?" a soft voice asked, a hint of mirth in their voice._

_Looking up to see who had spoken to him, he stumbled up, dropping his journal in his fuss. Picking it up, he held it up to his chest like a shield, "I uh...I guess so, sir." _

"_Shouldn't you be in school right now, son?" the man asked. He wore a fancy suit and a badge, which Hunter caught the word 'Curator' on. _

"_Field-trip...I got separated from the rest of my class," Hunter lied, having used that ruse seemingly hundreds of times before._

"_That's quite interesting...because you see, as a Curator, I look over activities planned in my museum. The only field trips we have scheduled for today are for high schoolers...bit young to be in high school, no?" the man inquired. _

_Hunter's heart was starting to race knowing that sooner or later he couldn't lie and would get into huge trouble for skipping school. But he kept his cool and shrugged, "Maybe...maybe I just have a high IQ."_

_The man tilted his head in thought, "And do you?"_

"_...slightly above average, but...no, sir," Hunter sighed as he looked down, "Are you gonna call the cops?"_

_Hunter's eyes prickled with tears that wanted to form. He promised his mother he wouldn't get into any more trouble. And he had tried, he really had! He just...didn't get along well with others. _

_When the man chuckled Hunter looked up. The man give him a warm smile and placed his hand on Hunter's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, "We'll let today slide. Okay, son?"_

_Though he knew son was just another word to the man, it really bothered him when he heard people call him that. Scrunching up his nose, he corrected the man, "My name is Hunter. Not son."_

_The man raised his hands in a 'surrender' gesture and smiled sympathetically, "Of course Hunter. You come here a lot I've noticed. My employees often talk about your kindness."_

_That made Hunter blush though he didn't deny it. He did bring the employees coffee or snacks when he could even if it was odd for someone of his age. He would then talk to them when they were bored. Helped whenever he could lend a hand. Anything really. He just liked it in the museum and he liked those that cared for it. _

"_He was your father?" the man asked while looking towards the memorial. Hunter stiffened a bit. He could barely talk about his father with his mother, and when they talked it was mostly his mother that did the talking. So he merely nodded but held onto his journal tightly. Heroes were strong and didn't cry, he was his mother's now. He couldn't whimper and weep for every little thing, even if it was for his own father. The man sighed as he knelt down to look at Hunter in the eye, "Look, Hunter...I'm very glad you love my museum so much, but I'm sure you're supposed to be in school, right?"_

_Hunter nodded and looked at his feet in shame. The Curator lifted his face so they were looking at each other again. His face was stern, but kind._

"_And I'm sure that's where you mother believes you are, right?"_

_Again, all Hunter could do was nod._

"_This place is plenty safe, yes, but Hunter...you can't always be where you want. You have to be where you're needed."_

_Hunter couldn't help but to look over to his father's memorial before turning back to the Curator, "Like a hero?" he asked in a small voice._

_The Curator's eyes soften and he nodded, "Like a hero."_

"_I'm not...I'm not good at school. But I'm good here," Hunter admitted after a brief silence._

_Standing up, the Curator ruffled Hunter's hair, an action no one had done since his father, "I'm not saying you can't come back here, kiddo. I'd never say that. Just come here after school and on weekends and let your mom know, okay?"_

"_I could learn more here than I'll ever learn at school," Hunter argued._

"_Maybe. Our collection is rather impressive and informative, but that's not the point. School teaches you more than just your subject lessons. It teaches you about the world, I promise."_

_Hunter scoffed, "Yeah...and how unfair it is."_

_The man smiled gently,"I know it's not easy...going back every day and it doesn't seem like anything changes, does it?" Hunter shook his head in response, "But at the end of the year...kids fail, kids get sent to summer school, you pass, you progress...and that's the thing...you make it forward."_

"_Do you write holiday cards on the side or something? Maybe those little calendars with inspirational quotes they sell in the shop?" Hunter asked with a raised eyebrow. Maybe they were nice words but he didn't care for niceness of strangers who didn't mean 99% of what they said. _

_The Curator laughed and motioned to the other end of the hall that led to the food court, "Come on, we can catch a bite to eat while you tell me why you love this place. My treat."_

"_I'm not allowed to go places with strangers." Hunter commented though he trusted the man and was currently surrounded by strangers in the museum. This man ran the museum, the last place that held a piece of his father that he could visit alone, without making his mother worry. The place where he felt safe and made actual friends of the staff. The place that had become his Sanctum Sanctorum, and where he wasn't going to be kicked out of._

_The man smiled and held out his hand, "I'm Mr. Karr, the Curator of New Earth's World of Wonders Museum. It's nice to officially meet you, Hunter."_

_Hunter shook it firmly, remembering it was what soldiers were supposed to do. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Karr. This is my favorite place in the world."_

* * *

_.:~*~:._

"The Angels told me Hunter was the one they needed," the Curator began, "The lost boy no one would miss, who had touched the stars and time itself. He was what they wanted...and they shall have him...in time. But you...Stiles. You and Hunter are brothers in arms. Alone and forgotten...but really you are just part of The Great Plan. The Angels know suffering, Stiles. They know you are no stranger to it. Feel proud and honored in being the first of the last to be sacrificed."

Stiles couldn't help but letting out a stunned, "Fuck."

He looked around wildly for some sort of escape. There were boxes and machines to move things around but he had no idea how to use them. In the back of his mind he knew that the Doctor and Hunter were coming for him. He just needed to buy some time. What he needed to do now was what he did best; talk, "Being a sacrifice never really worked well for me before. Trust me I'm not the right person for this."

The Curator didn't even give him a confused look. He just spoke, his voice even and cryptic. "Oh, I beg to differ. I've seen it in my mind's eye, Stiles. The power in your core, the will and drive that is embedded into your bones. All there and no one saw. Not those that were meant to be your friends. Not your father that was supposed to be your family. While everyone went on, finding their place in life...you remained adrift, being pulled closer and closer to the void."

Stiles curled his hands into fists, his jaw set, and a glare in place. Those words had echoed and rotated in his mind for weeks, months even, and it was startling to hear them out loud. At first he thought he could be great, but time passed and he felt like he was worth less than dirt when back at home. It kept him up at night, it wouldn't let anything settle and stay in his stomach. It plagued and haunted him. But not anymore. He had come to realize his worth, little by little he made progress everyday. Even though he may not be worth everything, he knows he's worth _something now!_ He wasn't nothing!

Taking a calming breath he took the man in front of him in. The man was clearly enamored with the Angels, believing that some sort of sacrifice was needed. That that sacrifice was Stiles, the boy he had apparently pegged and wanted him to join in on the fun. It kind of reminded him of a cult if he was being honest...that gave him his next idea.

"I'm glad I wasn't raised to be religious," he began with a shrug, "Some of it honestly feels like a cult. I mean there are beautiful parts of it. Parts that help people feel not so alone in this big crazy world. But then there are people like you. People who twist things around so they can make excuses. You preach about sacrifices, about those unwanted as if you know them and can sympathize with their small and sad lives. You preach about this and that...you speak to people like you know what they've been through personally. But you don't. You haven't fought our demons, even though you act like you have, like you understand. You haven't lost what we've lost. You've never felt what we felt. If you did you would know that this sort of death is _not_ the right choice. What you call needed sacrifice is cold, lying manipulation!" He finished off his sentence with a hissing glare at the man, his whiskey eyes flared with anger.

When he finished he saw the man before him change. His nostrils flared and his head lowered slightly, a smirk appearing on his face as if he was watching prey. Stiles words had apparently hit a really really sore spot within the man. Stiles now realized that he might have done the exact opposite of what he was hoping initially. He had actually pissed the guy off royally.

Widening his stance he watched the Curator, his need for survival had erupted within him like an inferno. For a while now he knew that he'd probably die young. And he'd sort of made peace with that, but not like this! He wasn't going to die today at the hands of this delusional man who didn't understand Stiles at all, who didn't understand Hunter, and who had ultimately betrayed Stiles new friend.

He would survive this, if only for no other reason than to wipe that Curator's cruel smirk off his face.

* * *

.:~*~:.

"_I thought I'd find you here," Mr. Karr's voice was even, not exactly a whisper but Hunter was sure he was the only one who heard it. _

_He was standing in the corner opposite of his father's memorial. It was the place where he felt the most comfortable at the moment. A big part of him wanted to go and talk to it like he would a tombstone, anything to connect him to his father. To tell him of what's happened, but he couldn't. He failed as the man of the house. He failed to be a hero like his father. His mother was dead now, and he was alone. Hunter clutched his journal to his chest tightly, like a shield. It was always his shield._

"_It was an accident Hunter. A tragic one, but still an accident. There's nothing you could have done." Mr. Karr tried to reason._

"_You don't know that," Hunter bit out. His voice was raspy and raw from the crying and screaming he had done when informed of his mother's passing._

_Mr. Karr sighed, "You're right. But if I could make an educated guess...had you been there you might have stopped it, yes, that is one option. Another option is that you too could have been hit. Thinking about those 'what if' moments will drive you insane, kid...it's not right." _

"_Then what is right?" Hunter demanded as his blue eyes turned to glare at the man. He was angry right now, angry and sad and alone. _

"_You're a good kid, Hunter. And that's because your mother raised you to be. So continue with what she raised you to be. Be good and kind and wonderful. Remember the things she did to make you smile, the jokes she told you that made you laugh, the things that made you think. You always come here asking all sorts of curious questions no other kid would ask...all of that? All of you?...it's her. It's her and your father." Mr. Karr explained gently, "Focus on that."_

_Tears began to form in his eyes until they fell over and cascaded down his face. He tried to hold them back but he began to sob, holding onto his journal like a life line, his shoulders shaking. Without hesitation Mr. Karr pulled him into a hug that Hunter would never admit he needed desperately._

"_It hurts...it hurts so bad...I...I can't..." Hunter sobbed._

"_I know...I know. It will never not be sad to think about Hunter. They're gone...but one day you'll be able to smile, and then it won't hurt so bad," Mr. Karr promised as he rubbed soothing circles onto Hunter's back. _

"_I don't want to leave...please don't make me leave," Hunter begged._

"_You can stay...for as long as you want."_

* * *

_.:~*~:._

"I may not have walked the path you're on. I may not have burned to ashes and risen from said ashes like you little one. But I was there to see it happen. I needed to be there as an observer and not a player for whats to come. You don't have to believe what I'm saying is true," the Curator practically growled, "But I've seen it."

"Because it's complete bull!" Stiles yelled. What the Curator was saying made no sense. He'd seen it all happen to Stiles?

The Curator took a small step forward and grinned maniacally, "But I speak the truth. The Angels want the souls of those who have touched time and space and know love for what it really is...pain."

"Shut up...just shut up! The more you talk the more psychotic you sound, you know that?" Stiles demanded as he took a matching step backwards.

"I don't expect you to understand. You're a player on the stage, Stiles. A piece on the board. You don't see beyond what you're meant to. Can't understand more than what you're meant to. You were born to love with a heart wide open," he threw his hands out in excitement, "only to hurt, just as the Angels hurt. Time, Space, and love caused by pain. It is their essence...and it is the life you will gift to them."

Stiles shook his head furiously and gave a laugh, "No. You're crazy."

"You're in a place where your world is gone. The place you loved and suffered all gone. And here you are...in its remains in this museum. This was meant to be. It's not your choice."

"The hell it's not!" Stiles said in a seething tone. It was all too much. Thinking about how right now at this point in time, Old Earth was now gone. All of the suffering he did back there blew up with the sun. His father...his mother...his old friends. His new friends. Love, sacrifice, pain, hurt...he had felt all of this in a place that was now gone.

Stiles watched the crazed man. His mother and father raised him with a set of fundamentals that were now his moral code. His friends provided the trials that led him astray. And the Doctor had given him a chance to choose what kind of person he would be; where he was faced with a choice. The choice many have had to make in the past, the choice to live, "It's my life. It is my choice. And I choose to live."

"You stupid boy...you are so young. You just cannot begin to understand. You have no choice in this upcoming pain you will sacrificed for. You-" the Curator began another speech, but Stiles cut him off.

"SHUT UP! I hate when people tell me I don't understand, that I have no choice...I do. I understand more than people give me credit for. I understand more than anyone else can possibly imagine. I understand pain...it hurts."

"_It hurts..." Hunter sobbed. _

"Some days it hurts so bad," Stiles continued.

"_It hurts so bad..." _

"Some days you just don't want to get out of bed because you feel like you..you just...can't!"

"_I...I can't..."_

"It feels like the world has stopped for you, so it should for everyone else too. But it doesn't! The sun rises and sets like clock work. Time keeps moving forward. People carry on with their lives. Even when...even when it's almost like a betrayal," Stiles felt his voice crack at his point, but he carried on, "It all keeps moving. And one thing that I've realized is that I have a choice. And I'm telling you no!"

"...you can't stay...you can't stay in the same place...not for too long. It's...it's only human..." the Curator spoke, but his voice was different and most certainly off topic. His eyes became glazed over as if he was suddenly looking through Stiles.

Stiles was a bit thrown off track in his own tirade by the confusion in the man's voice. Taking a good look at the man Stiles noticed the difference in his posture. Being a cop's kid he was always instructed to sit up straight. To hold himself up right and high, like strong men did. In profiling, standing up straight, slouching, going from one to the other, they were all telling signs. He had noticed when the Curator had become angry earlier, like he was stalking him. This was different. The man looked confused, shoulders slouched. Stiles was just a bit confused as to what this sign was telling him.

Stiles shuffled in place for a second, "Yeah...um, like I was saying. Life sucks sometimes. Sometimes it sucks a lot of the times but it doesn't stop."

"You can't stay here anymore Hunter...it's not as safe as it was..." the Curator said as he looked away from Stiles and clutched his head as if he were in pain. "Monsters are real...you need...can't stay where you want, kiddo...can't..."

Stiles eyes widened. He was losing it.

"STILES!"

Stiles' head turned when he heard the cry of his name. He saw two shadowy figures racing down the hallway. Once the light hit them he saw that it was the Doctor and Hunter. A bit tired and a few scratches but nothing to worry about. He limped towards them, though they met him half way. The Doctor's hug was bone crushing as he whispered in his ear, "You okay?"

Hunter stood and watched the Curator.

Stiles nodded as he hugged back just as hard, "Super duper...let's clean up and carry on, yeah?"

The Doctor let go and Hunter immediately stepped up for his turn to hug Stiles. The older teen hugging the younger and whispering reassuringly, "I'm okay...I'm okay..."

The Doctor stood and watched the Curator.

"It's over Mr. Karr. Your thugs are trapped in a room upstairs, the authorities are on their way, and the boys are safe. It's over," The Doctor stated.

The Curator looked at them, eyes glazed over, before his eyes landed on Hunter. "You look like her...except for your eyes. You have your father's eyes..."

"Mr. Karr?" The Doctor's voice went from being hard and strict to being confused. The confusion rose when the Curator grabbed a near by instrument, a wrench from a tool box. "Mr. Karr? Are you alright?"

"I'm...I'm sorry," Mr. Karr said as he gripped the wrench tightly in both of his hands and took a few steps backwards towards the generator.

"Mr. Karr?" Hunter spoke out as he took a step forward. Stiles grabbed him by the arm to stop him. His senses were a bit on over drive and he felt like a trap could happen at any moment. He didn't want to risk losing Hunter to some other trap door or something.

"I'm sorry Hunter, but you have to leave..." the Curator's voice was gruff and his face was turning pale. It looked like he was awakening from a dream.

"Sir?" Hunter called out, a look of confusion matching the Doctor's and Stiles'.

"You remember our talks, don't you kid? You can't always be where you want. Sometimes you gotta be where you're needed. Like your dad...he didn't want to go...but he had to. Now it's your turn...you...you can't stay...I'm sorry I kept you so long," the Curator looked up, eyes meeting Hunter's and where before an arrogant look of a delusional man stood before Stiles, now stood a tired face of a sad man smiling.

"Don't do it!" the Doctor yelled, his eyes already catching onto what the Curator was going to do. Stiles tightened his grip on Hunter, the teen looking like he was ready to run to the man. The Curator kept on backing up towards the generator that lay behind them, the Doctor matching his steps.

"I have to break this...take him. Keep him safe," the Curator said to the Doctor.

"I understand what you're saying but we can try another way. Whatever the Angels have done, they warp your mind sometimes, the really powerful ones. It's not to late," the Doctor said in return.

"No, no, no!" the Curator shouted before turning to Hunter, "You stay strong kiddo. Don't look back at this. Move forward."

Before Hunter could say anything back to the man that he had known since he was a child, he turned to Stiles, "Don't let him see."

Stiles barely had a second to react before he pulled Hunter back into a hug, shielding him from what was about to happen as the Doctor tried to run forward to stop the Curator. He couldn't though. With a battle cry the Curator smashed through a strangely colored glass funnel that was attached to the generator. Glass flew everywhere as the generator began to groan, a violet smoke pouring out of it. Sparks flew everywhere as everything shook and the lights flickered. The Doctor didn't even give them a chance to react before he careened into them and pulled them away from the smoke, away from the sparks, away from the destruction...and into the dark.

* * *

.:~*~:.

Stiles stood next to Hunter as they watched the Doctor talk to some people in military uniforms. The last twenty minutes were spent with some guys in lab coats and the Doctor working around the pyramid, trying to classify the device and the smoke that the Angels were using to break into this plain. In the early morning stillness, the boys could hear the sonic screwdriver's buzzing echo through out the halls from time to time.

And all this time he sat with Hunter, his shoulder pressed against his and offering silent comfort. He hadn't spoken the entire time, fists clenched against his thighs, basking in the comfort of a brother in arms comfort until he was ready to talk. Finally after what seemed a small eternity yet was a blink of an eye, the Doctor was making his way towards them.

"So? Is everything okay?" Stiles asked.

"Well...Mr. Karr's injuries were too severe. I'm so sorry, Hunter, he's gone. From the last moments though, it seemed like the Angels had a powerful psychic connection with him, amplified by the generator. What he destroyed wasn't a normal generator. It wasn't producing electricity, but rather psychic waves, and it's engineering was made in a way that gave off these magnetic pulses that coincided with the purple smoke that spilled out of it. Something bigger would've happened if he didn't stop it, " the Doctor explained.

Hunter cocked his head to the side, face turning curious, "If the Angels are trapped inside, who made the generator?"

"Good question. I dunno," the Doctor replied with a frown, hating not knowing.

"What now?" Stiles asked after a moment.

"Now we go back to the Tardis. You two deserve some rest and maybe a trip to very early Persia, eh? Before there was ice cream, or even gelato, there was shaved ice with flavored berry syrup on top! It's delicious!" The Doctor exclaimed, trying to bring back an easy mood after the death of the Curator and the fact that there was something more here that they couldn't explain.

Hunter bit his lip before asking, "May I have a minute?" He was looking towards the hallway that led to his father's memorial, "I...I need a minute."

The Doctor's eyes soften as he nodded, "Of course."

Stiles and the Doctor watched Hunter disappear down the hall before the Doctor spoke, "Why don't you go with him? Make sure he's okay? I'm going to go get something."

"You sure?" Stiles asked. He was still getting used to this companion thing and he didn't want to leave the Doctor alone just in case he needed him. But Hunter...Stiles felt for what Hunter was going through.

"Won't be long. Just going to stop by the shop for a mo," the Doctor said casually. Before Stiles could even say anything else, the Doctor was already off. Chuckling at the Doctor's antics, Stiles went after Hunter.

It didn't take long to find him since the boy had spoken to him about his father's memorial. Hunter had stepped over the rope line that was showed where guests needed to stop. Stiles could see Hunter's mind was far away and stayed back, letting him have his moment. The younger teen caressed different parts of the memorial and its displays, taking out the compass and holding it tightly in one of his hands. With his other hand he reached forward and delicately pulled a photo out of one of the displays.

Pocketing the compass in his jeans, Hunter removed his backpack and took out a journal. It was old and worn out, seemingly more than the original pages stuffed in there. Stepping closer, Stiles saw that the picture was of Hunter's father with his military squad. They were all dressed in their Air Force uniforms, standing in front of a fleet of fliers. Hunter safely tucked the photograph between the cover and first page.

Stiles couldn't help but read the two names on the front, "Orion and Diana."

"My parents. It's why they named me Hunter. Orion's Greek, he was known as The Hunter. And Diana is the Roman form of Artemis...Goddess of the Hunt. When I was born...it was.." he seemed to choke up a bit but continued, "It's both of them..in me. They aren't gone...not really. Not as long as I live, ya know?" Hunter eyes became misty.

Stiles nodded as he placed a reassuring hand on Hunter's shoulder and gave a squeeze, "I know...did that belong to them? Is it like, a scrap book or something? And how the hell did you touch all that without the alarms going off?"

Hunter gave a small laugh at Stiles last question, "The museums shut down because of the generator. What ever it did knocked down the shields. This is the first time I've been able to touch these...his things. When my dad passed...I got really quiet. There were things I wanted to tell him...to ask him, but he was gone. My mom had to worry about caring for me and us as a whole now that dad was gone. She got busy and didn't really know how to reach me. So one day she hands me a journal with my dad's name on it. She says I don't have to talk to her if I'm not ready...and that it won't be the same as actually talking to him, but it was something...it'll help. So every day I wrote to him as if he'd get it one day...and when my mom passed, her name was added to the list. Some times I write pages full of events. Some days I just write a sentence. But...I write to them..."

Stiles followed Hunter as he stepped away from the display, making their way over the guest barrier.

"After my mom died, I asked Mr. Karr if I could stay. He said I could for as long as I needed...but once before that he told me...he said that we can't always be where we want to be, but where we need to be. I don't think I need to be here anymore," he said the last part in a whisper. Not towards Stiles, but to his father's memorial. And Stiles suddenly understood. Hunter felt like he owed his father an answer, an explanation for leaving, even though there wasn't a question. And what Hunter needed was a goodbye, which he got tonight and at this moment. It probably wasn't how he expected it to be, but he got it.

"You okay?" Stiles asked after a moment.

Hunter turned to look at him, this weird, appeased look on his face, "Are you?"

"I..." he opened and closes his mouth a few times, then looks towards Orion's memorial before looking back at Hunter. The younger teen was asking him if this brought up memories of his past, things that he had lost as well. Stiles answered honestly, "I will be..."

"Then I will be too. Misfit bro?"

Hunter raised his fist towards Stiles.

Stiles smiled gently and met him half way for a fist bump, "Misfit bros."

* * *

.:~*~:.

"Hunter's passed out. Rightfully so. Been a very long day for him...and you. You should be passed out too," The Doctor looked up from one of the monitors as Stiles walked into the control console room.

After everything was settled, well as settled as it could be, they returned to the Tardis. A room had been found for Hunter immediately which coincidentally stood across from Stiles. And when Stiles had shown him his room he had only focused on the bed and flopped down on it, shoes and all. After taking his bag off, slipping off his shoes and throwing a blanket over him, Stiles had headed back to see the Doctor.

Now he stood, shifting awkwardly in front of the Doctor. The Doctor noticed the behavior immediately and focused on Stiles. He noticed the envelope in the human's hands. Clearing his throat Stiles said, "I uh...I need a favor."

* * *

.:~*~:.

Isaac was on his way back, way past curfew, but he knew that the Sheriff understood that some days were harder than others. Some days he needed to be let out to roam and be more wolf than man. It was easier...simpler. An animal's mind didn't dwell too long on emotions like the human mind did. It helped sometimes...if only a bit.

It was when he was a block away from the Stilinski house when he smelled it. It was fresh. So fresh. The freshest it's been since over a year ago. It was him. He was back!

His mind and heart raced as his feet carried him as fast as they could, tripping over them one, two, three times. But he didn't care. He barged into the house, not even bothering to close the door behind him as he lunged for the stairs and then barged into the room where the scent was coming from, "STILES!"

* * *

Notes: Diana is the Roman version of Artemis who is the opposite, yet equal to her twin brother Apollo who is the Sun God, which makes her the Moon Goddess. But she is also known as the Goddess of the Hunt. She is also known for other attributes. She is a maiden Goddess which means she is a virgin. Though she is a virgin she had this romantic(not sexual, there actually is a difference between romance and sex) relationship with Orion. She loved him, when he died, and there are different version of this story, she couldn't bare with his death so she made him immortal and placed him among the stars, where as Goddess of the Moon, she could see him every night on her journey across the sky. Their love story is one of my favorites in mythology.

I am trying to speed this up so we can get Stiles to the other universe soon, but still keep it at a pace where you can see Stiles' growth. So please bare with me, we are almost to the other side.

If you have a Twitter you can follow me, my handle is (add the at sign/symbol because FF won't let me, here)MarauderKnyte and also my Beta whose handle is (add the at sign/symbol because FF won't let me, here)TheAltSource. She's mega awesome, more so on AO3, not sure if she's on FF. But if you need a Beta or just another Sterek friend to interact with, follow her.

Until next update!


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